


Laurië Lantar Lassi (Like Gold Fall the Leaves)

by littlecakes



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Language Barrier, M/M, Magic, Minor Violence, Outdoor Sex, Prompto is a wood elf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-06-09 00:30:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15255426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlecakes/pseuds/littlecakes
Summary: Gladio escapes a violent attack on his township to find a tiny village called Lestallum. Lucky for him, they're in need of a blacksmith just as much as he's in need of a new home. He starts to think that maybe the Gods have blessed him with luck until his first foray into the forest, where he discovers a troublesome wood elf with the power to heal trees. How can he be a blacksmith if he can't even chop firewood?





	1. Like a Phoenix

Gladio was normally a heavy sleeper. He could sleep through anything. It was natural for a man who lived across the street from Insomnia’s biggest market. The clopping of hooves against worn cobblestones, the town crier’s yells amongst the din announcing the news of the day-even the laughter of children as they ran through the streets in bare feet couldn’t wake him. The market itself was already bustling before he awoke shortly after dawn and would continue into its evening festivities long after he would go to sleep at night. It was the lifeblood of the little village that laid outside of Castle Lucis.

The castle itself was a testament to the strength of the Caelums. They had ruled the lands of Lucis for centuries and were fair, gentle rulers, beloved by their people. The tiny village of Insomnia laid in the castle’s protective shadow. It made it easy for Gladio to lay his head at night without a care in the world, other than the hot hiss of molten steel and the glow of old coals that would awaken him the next morning.

There was nowhere else Gladio would rather live. A blacksmith needed a steady stream of customers in order to maintain their income. Though he wasn’t the castle blacksmith- that duty was left to his father, Clarus, who stoked ancient fires deep within the stone beast’s belly- he did have the smithy closest to the agrarian community. That meant there were sickles to be made and sharpened, wheel axles to be formed, and the occasional sword to be honed. It was all hard, rewarding work that left him contented yet exhausted at the end of the day. He’d laid down that night and listened to the drunken, joyful songs being sung outside the tavern next door as he drifted off to sleep.

That night, Gladio awoke to a scream, throaty and guttural, outside of his home that had echoed straight through his open window. He shot up out of bed, strapped on his boots and tossed on an errant tunic he’d found on his floor before rushing outside to a fresh hell. The market was a slurry of blood and violence, and the tavern’s roof was alight in hungry flames. There was a crash as Gladio watched the wall of Castle Lucis fall with wide, fearful eyes. It was then that he saw the green and silver of Niflheim gracing the shoulders of the soldiers marching down the street.

A panicked whinny brought him back to his senses. Gladio needed to get out of here, and fast, lest he become another member of the slaughter. Surely they were here for blood and little else, seeing as they’d killed most of the marketplace folk and others down the way. Despite the fact that he stood nearly a head taller than most, Gladio had managed to remain unseen by the Niff soldiers that were patrolling for any Lucian life that remained. Slipping back inside his house, he grabbed a spare shirt, a wooden box filled with savings from inside his mattress, and an ancient book before leaving.

He crept around the side of his house and past his smithy to the small stable that stood behind it to find his horse, Carbuncle. A massive horse to suit a massive man, Gladio’s head barely met the clydesdale’s brown shoulder, his large boots shrunken in size compared to her large, feathered hooves. She was his only family beside his father, who he very deliberately chose not to think of in that moment, and he was grateful to find her well and alive. The horse was quite distressed, stomping and snorting as she squirmed in the confined space of her stall. Gladio rested his hands and face against her warm side, not just to bring Carbuncle ease, but to soothe the raucous beating of his own heart which raced wild with fear.

“Shhh, Carb, I got you,” he whispered. “Let’s get out of here.”

Carbuncle snorted restlessly as Gladio strapped her into her harness and onto his wagon, whispering calm, loving words under his breath as he did so. Her body relaxed as he ran his calloused fingers over her neck and under the old, black leather, making sure it was snug before tossing what little meat he’d managed to dry that winter into the back of his cart. They were out of Insomnia in the blink of an eye. Gladio looked over his shoulder to see the tallest tower of the castle crumble under the power of Niflheim’s trebuchet. Shuddering, he turned his eyes back to the uncertain future that took form in the shape of the old dirt road and Carbuncle’s ears twitching in the light of his lantern.

The odd pair traveled through the night, stopping only for water from a trickling stream by the light of the dawn. It encased the forest in an amber light, striking only the tips of the trees and the nearby clearing. Gladio put his hands on his hips as he looked on, finding comfort that only something as routine as the rising sun could bring. He was exhausted, truly, but grateful to see that golden hue cascade across Lucis yet again. 

The gravity of the situation had begun to settle upon Gladio’s shoulders. He’d left his home with little to his name but the jerky in his cart and the little savings he’d stashed away. What he did have was back in Insomnia and surely in the hands of the Niffs by now. It was all long gone by his determination. There was no way he was going back, not with Castle Lucis gone. A sigh heaved through his chest as woe settled in his heart. His eyes trailed the treetops and fell upon a thick ribbon of smoke, snaking into the sky high above him.

Gladio mindlessly toyed with a braided lock of Carbuncle’s mane as he watched the smoke dance in the air. It carried with it much promise; there were people there, people who could help a struggling refugee like himself. However, images of the night before danced across his mind and brought with them grief and fear. It could easily be Niffs that made that fire to lure innocent folk to their deaths. Biting his lip, it was easy to see that there was really only one choice. Even if that fire was made by Niffs, perhaps there would only be a few of them and he could overtake them and usurp their supplies. Gods knew he’d need them.

It took almost an hour before they began nearing the source of the smoke. There were signs of civilization as they approached, thankfully. The road was better-kept here, several stumps along the road were cut and fresh, and soon they were travelling alongside a short stone wall. He felt some relief to know that he was nearing an established settlement rather than a Niff camp. There were even people; Gladio didn’t know until he saw them what a wonderful relief it was to still see people happy and smiling after the horrors he witnessed the night before.

Lestallum turned out to be a pretty friendly place. It was inhabited by a fair number of people, most of which were women. They were the ones who worked to maintain the village, stock the shops, hunt, and even protect it. It was not an unwelcome surprise, just one Gladio wasn’t used to after living in Insomnia for so long. The people in town explained to him that they hadn’t had a blacksmith reside in their little village for over a year. Someone who had skill in a smithy was hard to come by, for which Gladio was grateful for. It meant he was needed, and now more than ever he  _ needed  _ to be needed. 

He longed for the warm comfort of his bed, with the sink in the middle where he fit most comfortably, and the rich, hot embers of his forge. Instead, he was here, in this foreign place with these foreign people that made him yearn even more for home. A hopeful part of him thought that maybe he could make this place his home. The people were more than eager to accept him, anyway.

Job offered, job taken. As the sun set low in the sky, he was shown to the smithy on the outside of town. It was an old building- it had seen many days- but it would do. Gladio unloaded his meager collection of belongings into the one-room house adjoined to the forge. A small straw mattress laid in one corner, covered in a thick layer of dust, and an armoire that was older than he was stood in the other. The third corner across from the door was home to a hearth with a large pot hanging from a hook. His old house in Insomnia was bigger, but at this point he was just grateful to find a roof over his head so quickly.

There was no stable, unfortunately. He would have to build one himself, or at least a small lean-to and pen in which to keep Carbuncle. That would be the first thing on his to-do list, since hobbling his horse most of the time wasn’t an option. The wood rack was empty to no surprise. Gladio found a large axe leaning against the belly of the forge and made his way out to the forest. It would be good to get moving again after sitting for so long on the cart.

The trees here grew thick and tall, much more so than the others that shrouded the road into the village. Some trees sported trunks that were so thick even Gladio had trouble wrapping his arms around their middles. Bushes and wildflowers had grown thickly over the ground like a carpet. It made navigating deep into the forest difficult. The greenery was breathtaking, making the dense forest seem almost alien. Life was rich and vibrant here with birds chirping and fauna scampering about. It reminded him of the market back at home, and he was filled with a strong sense of belonging.

The air in the forest reverberated with an odd energy. Everything here seemed so much more alive. The trees swung in the breeze gayly, though the breeze wasn’t as heavy as their swinging warranted. Birds sung beautiful melodies Gladio had never heard before in his life. He even felt energized by the air, almost to a point of anxiousness. He felt the need to move, to breathe, to just  _ be _ in this place, so much more so than anywhere else he’d ever been.

Hiking further into the forest, Gladio could hear running water nearby somewhere; perhaps a stream, maybe. He headed in that direction, and after a long while of walking, found a small hot spring hidden in the rocky cliffside. It was small, but he could fit easily. As tempting as it was to undress and take a bath, he had other things to do. Gladio would have to remember this for later when his aching muscles would need a good soak after swinging an axe.

A tree near the hot spring looked suitable. It wasn’t nearly as thick as the other trees but It could probably be taken down before the sun set. He would have to come back for it tomorrow since it was already late in the day, but that wasn’t an issue. If he brought Carbuncle, she could tow the load, and he could take down several trees for a fence. Gladio swung his axe hard into the surface of the tree, and the connection of steel against wood rippled down his arms and through his shoulders. Hit after hit, the sensation continued. It was incredibly gratifying.

Most of the afternoon had passed before he had worked his way through only a third of the tree’s trunk. The sunlight filtered low through the trees, sending a smattering of yellow light across the tops of the bushes and flowers by his feet. He so desperately wanted to be done and his back was already screaming at him from sitting in the cart all day. Following that up with swinging an axe wasn’t a normal activity for the blacksmith and he was tired.

It was just so odd. He should’ve been done by now. The tree wasn’t large and Gladio was a strong man. It was as if the tree was resisting his will and holding strong against his axework. Frustrating wasn’t the word he would use to describe it; perhaps bewildering was a better choice. Was this some special kind of tree?

Sighing heavily, he walked over to the hot spring and dipped his hands in. The heat of the water stung at the tender flesh of his palms. If this is how he was feeling now then the rest of this task was sure to be hell. He was no carpenter, but there wasn’t exactly money for him to hire one to build a fence. Until he had some work, he would have to fend for himself. Gladio’s hands adjusted to the temperature of the water and he groaned in relief. The water was  _ wonderful. _

He lingered far longer than he should have. Sitting cross-legged by the water allowed him to dangle his hands effortlessly in the hot spring while he contemplated this blasted fence he was going to have to build. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon now. If he wanted to get something to eat from the market before it closed, he was going to have to go now. He stood to leave, wiping the water off on his trousers.

That’s when he heard it.

Singing. Here, in this forest, someone was  _ singing.  _

It wasn’t a melody he’d ever heard before, and after nearly a lifetime of living next door to a tavern, Gladio had thought he’d heard them all. The song was hauntingly beautiful, the voice singing it carrying in the breeze so softly Gladio thought he might have been hearing things. Although he couldn’t find the source of it, it was almost as if it was coming from within the trees itself, echoing around Gladio from all angles. Were the  _ trees _ singing? Impossible. It had to be.

_ Time to get out of here _ , he thought. There was an odd magic brewing that made the hair on the back of his neck twitch and stand up. The ebbing energy within him, egged on by the air itself, was growing into a frenzy. He wasn’t alone here. There had to be something, someone, anything that could explain the singing and the way the air hung heavily around him and the burst of energy inside him that felt like hot, searing light.

Gladio walked with purpose back to the tree he’d been working so hard to cut down when he saw a figure crouched beside it. From this angle, it was impossible to tell exactly  _ what _ it was, but it was obviously examining the cut he’d made in the tree. His grip tightened on his axe and his gait slowed as he approached nearly silently. Years of hunting had made him quite skilled at trekking a forest without making a sound. He made a wide circle around the creature before stopping behind a large tree to examine it more closely.

Whatever it was, it was humanoid and scantily clothed with a dark green cloth slung around its hips and little else. Its pale skin was dotted with freckles and etched with green that seemed to creep across its body like vines. A bow and quiver were strapped across its back. The bow was beautifully carved with leaves and vines that echoed the tattoos of the thing’s skin. A mess of blonde hair covered its head.

Gladio realized that this  _ person _ \- if he could even call it a person- was the one responsible for the singing. He could hear the soft pitch of its voice as it sung softly while its fingers danced across the gaping wound Gladio had created in the tree. Before his very eyes, the flesh of the tree began growing at an alarming rate, filling in the hard work Gladio had done all afternoon and the bark was growing over bare wood under the creature’s nimble fingers. It was as if it was responding to the soft melody being sung.

“Hey! Cut that out!” Gladio roared, his blood boiling. How dare this creature undo all his work? Gladio’s hands had been riddled with sores from swinging the axe all day, and he had nothing to show for it now.

The song was cut short by a sharp gasp. The creature’s head whipped around and its violet-blue eyes fell upon Gladio’s, wide with fear. The breath in Gladio’s lungs seemed to be trapped inside of him as he beheld his unusual gaze; Gladio had never seen eyes that color before, or ears that pointed. The elf’s features were as if they were cut from marble: pale, flawless, immortal. The forest green tattoos that adorned his body also painted his face. Where the green vines were thick on his body, on his face they were fine and intricate, sweeping across his forehead in delicate curls.

The elf’s slim body was spry but muscular. The same vines that danced across his back were also on his chest, creeping over his pectorals and collarbone delicately. Freckles dotted his creamy skin. While appearing human, Gladio could sense the magic emanating from him almost immediately. That was the way with creatures like him; they were so radically different from Lucians in the way they could extend their souls out in alien magic that anyone who didn’t have an ounce of magic in their bodies could feel it in the air like electricity, and what an electricity it was. It was almost astounding. Gladio could feel it in the fearful gaze of the small elf.

What seemed like an eternity was only a moment. The elf was gone, fleeing through the forest at a pace faster than Gladio could ever hope to match. His bare feet carried him almost effortlessly through the brush as he floated through the forest like a leaf on the breeze. Gladio watched with awe and mouth agape until the elf could no longer be seen.

The sudden silence of the forest drew him out of his moment of breathlessness and back into reality. It was almost eerie how quiet the forest was without the elf’s singing, as if the trees themselves lamented the sudden end of his music. Gladio realized that he had dropped his axe, and upon bending over to pick it up noticed the absence of the ache his shoulders had just had moments ago.

Turning a palm over to examine it, he noticed his hands were better, too. The ruddy redness that had painted his aching palms was gone, along with the blisters that had formed on the pads of his fingers. It was as if he hadn’t been swinging an axe all afternoon, or even raised a hammer to steel. They were  _ perfect _ . But how? Could a song simply cure his ailments and aging as if he’d never lived?

He looked once more down the narrow path the elf had taken. Perhaps the elf could answer his questions, but that was a matter for tomorrow. Fireflies had taken to the humid air, dancing and flickering like stars suspended in the air. It was getting late, and Gladio was hungry.

Gladio spent the time during his walk home pondering how best to lure a wood elf.


	2. Silver Tongues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio and the elf meet yet again. It doesn't go well.

The forest was oddly still that morning as Gladio quietly stalked the forest floor. It was early in the day; merely a hint of light guided Gladio’s carefully chosen footsteps. The hem of his pants grew wet with the thick dew that kissed the grasses beneath his feet, its cool temperature sending a shiver up the man’s spine straight to his broad shoulders. There wasn’t an animal to be seen but a deer and her fawn, whose graceful leaps across brush and boulder were silent.

Today marked the second day of Gladio’s residence in Lestallum. He quickly discovered that the forest was a jarring juxtaposition to the village itself. Where the town was tiny and quiet, the forest itself was alive and thrumming with life and magic. Even though he was here on business, Gladio couldn’t help but feel the draw. A certain tranquility seemed to emanate from every living thing here, a tranquility that had captured Gladio’s heart.

After two days of navigating the forest, it had become easy to find his way. There was the boulder that stood strong and tall just at the forest’s edge that marked his starting point. Walking a straight line from there, he would find a massive, fallen log covered in mosses and snails indicating he should take a turn to the left. If he walked in that direction, he would end up at the hot spring.

Being at the spring filled Gladio with nervous excitement. This was the place where the energy in the air was the most abundant. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back and breathed in the air, rich with its delicious scent. Gladio was beginning to wonder if it was magic that seemed to electrify him. Perhaps there was much more than met the eye to this deep, dark forest. 

The hot, steaming water was so enticing. More than anything he just wanted to strip and jump in to enjoy its relaxing properties. It had been so long since he’d had a proper bath. There was work to be done though, and the hot spring would be his reward. He set his axe against a tree along with a small satchel before making in the direction of where the elf had disappeared.

Gladio was convinced that the elf truly had floated on the breeze that evening. The trees here were much closer to each other and older, too. Their trunks grew thick and tall, with branches that didn’t appear until high above Gladio’s head, creating a thick ceiling of green and blocking out most of the sunlight. The lack of light in no way prevented the overabundance of undergrowth that impeded Gladio’s hike into the forest.

The brush snagged Gladio’s clothing in its snarls like eager fingers grasping on the fabric. It was getting so thick and so gods-damned tall that Gladio was stopped in his tracks every other step as he tried to travel deeper. A particularly nasty snarl tore right through his shirt and ripped through his flesh like a knife, eliciting a deep growl from the blacksmith. Gladio grabbed the nasty vine in his fist and broke it away from its bush before swearing again as its thorns cut into his hand.

It didn’t take much more beyond that to convince Gladio that trying to follow the elf’s path was a fruitless effort. So much for that. Climbing out of the thicket was remarkably easy compared to making his way in. The brush seemed to give way, making his exit all the easier and befuddling him even more.

Yes, there definitely was more to this forest than he originally thought.

Gladio grumbled under his breath as he returned to the hot spring, cursing the forest and its particularly troublesome inhabitant. They were making things far more difficult than he needed them to be. If only they could understand how difficult things were for him already- maybe they’d cut him some slack.  _ Right _ , he told himself,  _ because nature is already so kind to its inhabitants. _

The saying was survival of the fittest, not survival of the most pitiful. Gladio was determined not to be pitiful. He was simply slowed in progress. Sure, he was a blacksmith with no forge. Sure, he was the strongest man in the village but couldn’t even cut a tree down. Sure, he was at his wits end with an elf, of all things. No one would believe him if he’d told them why he still hadn’t gotten his forge up and running.  
“ _An elf? Right. Next you’ll be telling us tales of the bandersnatch you saw selling pasties outside the market_ ,” he imagined them saying. Perhaps not telling people about the elf and simply chalking it up to neglected tools was a better excuse. A few people had already come by with requests for his services and the like. Gladio had to tell them that the forge was simply taking time to get ready, and for the most part, that was true.

Standing in front of a tree, Gladio’s fist closed tightly around the handle of his axe as he coiled like a spring, ready to strike. Anxiety bloomed in his belly like a wildflower as he positioned himself. Would it work this time? Maybe the elf’s magic only worked on those other trees he tried. Perhaps it was time-sensitive and would wear off. It could be that it wouldn’t happen again.

The axe struck the side of the tree hard and bounced off like a stone skipping across water. The bark of the tree wasn’t even marred. Gladio couldn’t even place where he’d hit it. It was just like the last time; he would swing his axe with all his might and be left with nothing to show for it. Whatever magic this was, it was  _ strong _ and protected every tree he came in contact with. Snarling, he hurled his axe angrily at the tree, only for it to bounce off again. He winced, clutching his palm to his chest as he remembered the thorny encounter he’d just had.

“Just great,” he muttered to himself as he walked home.

Turning his stinging palm up, he examined the lacerations in the light of the sun. They weren’t deep, thank the Astrals, so he wouldn’t need stitches. They were painful, though. That plant probably had some kind of toxin in it that irritated his skin. Dirt had settled in the creases of his palms, accentuating their rough appearance. Though they were dirty, his hands were smooth and clear, free of the calluses and blisters they’d once had.

Furrowing his brow, he stared at them, and a thought of the other evening danced across his mind. His ears  filled with the ghostly memory of the elf’s song, rich with magic and wonderment. Gladio wracked his brain trying to think of anything more beautiful that he’d heard before, but fell short. The melody was unlike anything he’d ever heard, and the way it echoed throughout the forest was nothing short of incredible, but it wasn’t the song that haunted him.

It was the eyes.

Those eyes, the same color as the clematis that would grow wild in the fields outside his old home. Those eyes, rich in hue and and expression. Those  _ eyes _ , whose gaze was truly electrifying, as if Gladio had felt the elf’s look rock his core. Gladio couldn’t forget those eyes. They seemed to tease him every time he thought of that blasted elf and his antics.

They made it so hard to hate him.

Gladio could hear Carbuncle’s whinny from inside his house. They were distressed, anxious sounds, and a flash of fire, silver, and green flashed through his mind. Gladio ran to his forge, grabbed his blacksmith’s hammer, and jogged out in the direction from which he heard Carbuncle’s anxious sounds.  _ Not her too, not her too, _ he thought.

She wasn’t far from his house. He found her hobbles before he found Carbuncle. They were in perfect condition, meaning they’d been removed. Great. Now he had a horse thief to deal with. Carbuncle’s size was essentially insurance; most thieves didn’t mess with her for fear of being trod under dinner-plate sized hooves. Whoever it was that had removed her hobbles was either confident or stupid. Either one was not an ideal choice. As he laid eyes on his horse thief, Gladio dropped the hammer and crept quietly behind a rock.

Carbuncle laid in the tall grass with her legs tucked under her, her body a solid rock of muscle amongst the fragile blades of grass that danced at her sides. Gladio could see her breath heaving in her belly as she laid there. It was odd; Carbuncle wasn’t one to subject herself to strangers, hell, she didn’t even listen to Gladio sometimes… but here she was, laying in the grass, with the elf crouched close to her.

As much as he wanted to stop and watch, just to see what the elf was up to, everything in his guts told Gladio to confront him. He just didn’t want to give the elf a chance to lay a harmful hand on his precious horse. It was paralyzing, trying to decide between sating his curiosity and feeding his rage. Before he gave himself the chance to think straight, he dashed out from behind his hiding place and grabbed the elf by the wrist.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Gladio growled.

The elf looked at Gladio with surprise, his mouth forming a small “o.” A tiny gasp escaped his lips as he tried to yank his wrist away from Gladio’s strong grasp to no avail. The elf furrowed his brow as he yanked again, standing firm in his stance as he tried to escape Gladio. The blacksmith stood strong in his stance. The elf wasn’t getting away, not this time. Gladio was determined to have words with him.

“ _ Ni méra an eteleht- _ ”

The elf shouted something in a language Gladio didn’t understand. His speech flowed like a trickling stream, consonants curling around vowels in a delicate way, despite the elf’s flustered tone. Gladio growled as he yanked the elf toward him. The elf was tiny compared to Gladio, who had nearly a foot in height on him. Gladio held his wrist so the elf’s arm was stuck awkwardly up in the air. His wrist was delicate and light in Gladio’s grasp like a bird; Gladio held tight enough to prevent him from leaving, but not tight enough to harm him.

“You wanna mess with me and now my horse? You’ve picked on the wrong guy,” Gladio threatened.

Whimpering, the elf pulled at his wrist one more time, using his free hand to attempt to pry Gladio’s fingers open. His fingers were long and slender. Despite his life in the forest, they were remarkably clean and well-cared for. Gladio couldn’t help but notice that the freckles that adorned the elf’s shoulders also dotted his flushed cheeks and across the tops of his knuckles. Lucians didn’t have freckles, making the elf’s appearance all the more curious. His hostage yelled again in his native tongue before writhing violently and pushing his free palm against Gladio’s chest.

Gladio found himself distracted and staring just a moment too long. A searing pain blossomed across the skin of his stomach from where the elf had his hands pressed to Gladio’s bare skin. Green tattoos pulsed with a brief, low light as he imbued Gladio with his magic. Groaning, Gladio let go of the elf’s wrist before wrapping his arms around his own middle. It was a seriously awful burning, itching sensation that seemed to consume the skin on his chest and abs. Nails scraping across his own flesh, he looked up at the elf, whose face was consumed with fear… and regret?

Was that regret on the elf’s face?

“What did you do to do me!?” Gladio hissed.

_ “Ni'm sorrime an naicele _ ,” the elf spoke under his breath before flitting off into the forest.

 

~`~`~`~

 

His skin was red, swollen, and itchy in the beginning. It wasn’t until the late afternoon that boils began forming on Gladio’s skin; big, golden boils that swelled with ooze. Gladio had scratched his skin throughout the morning and into the early afternoon until yelping in pain as a fingernail crossed a forming welt. The rash was agonizing at this point. Gladio wanted more than anything to scratch until his skin came off, but he knew that would do no good. He lay in his bed, shirtless, with a damp, cool cloth over the irritated skin.

This was worse than any gaping wound. At least with those, he could stitch it up, put some salve on it, and be done with it. But this? This was a whole new hell. It reminded him of when he was a child and had tripped and fallen into some bushes, their triplets of leaves on the end of each tiny branch something his grandmother had warned him of. There had been red, rashy skin then too, but nothing like this.

The most reddened and risen skin was in the shape of a handprint square in the middle of Gladio’s chest. The magic source made it all the worse.  Unlike other irritations, this seemed to persist at such an eager, malicious level of pain that Gladio was convinced the elf had cursed him with his foul plant magic. Gladio cursed him too, though his words were empty with nothing but a disdainful tone and anger in his heart. 

He dragged himself out of bed and got dressed before making his way outside to find Carbuncle in the same place he and the elf had left her. She all but refused to move, laying on her side as her breath heaved in her belly. Gladio sat beside her, stroking her mane and whispering sweet words to her. Carbuncle didn’t look good; her body was warm to the touch and her saliva was frothy.

“Carbuncle, Carbuncle… c’mon, girl. At least come near the house instead of laying out in this field. It’s not safe out here,” he said as he rose to his feet. He couldn’t help but think of the encounter he’d had with the elf earlier. Gladio worried he’d come out here to finish the job. He probably had  _ something _ to do with Carbuncle’s mysterious illness, seeing as she was okay before Gladio had interfered.

Carbuncle slowly followed Gladio back to the house, choosing a comfy spot in some tall grass along the north wall just outside the forge to lay in. With a heavy heart, Gladio went back inside and found himself lying on his bed again, staring up at the ceiling. His eyes followed the lines of ancient straw that made the thatching of his rooftop.

Everything was coming apart at the seams. He’d managed to survive the attack on Insomnia only to find himself in a new fight here. This fight for survival was so different, so much more of a struggle. It was almost as if he’d died in Insomnia, and he was in limbo, living some sick echo of his former life.

Eyes growing hot, Gladio pressed his palms into his eyelids until he saw stars dancing across their insides. Maybe he had taken his life for granted. Not everything in Insomnia was perfect, but it certainly was easier. Watching that castle fall... Gladio wished he had known that when he saw it crumpling that he was watching his life crumple, too. 

The thought made his heart ache for old times. Times when he was young, careless, and free from the weights of the world. He laughed cruelly at himself as his heart instantly ached for his mother and her warm embrace. She had died when he was only seven from fever. Gladio had been left with mere memories and an old book. That book had become such a treasure to him that it was the only thing he’d saved from the clutches of the Niffs back in Insomnia.

Gladio reached beneath his mattress and pulled the book from its safe place. The cover was bound in green leather that was worn and creased haphazardly from its rough handlings throughout the years. Raising it to his nose, Gladio inhaled deeply. The scent of leather, musty old paper- nostalgia in its purest essence- drifted in and set him sailing on a sea of memories. Amber eyes, dark hair, and a patient smile, curling across full lips. People always told him he looked like his mother and as a child, he denied it, but now, as a man who could appreciate beauty more fully, he cherished it.

This book was part of her. She’d given it to him on his birthday, nearly twenty years ago. A book of fairy tales told in pictures. Gladio was never of a high enough social stature to learn how to read, but he could appreciate the stories told in pictures. He lit a candle to fend off the approaching darkness, invited in by the setting sun, and propped himself up on his elbows. The book draped open elegantly as he laid it flat on the bed.

He’d forgotten what wonderful tales were in the book. Creatures of all shapes and sizes, dreamed up by wild imaginations graced its pages. Unicorns, dragons, and basilisks, etched in fine ink and painted with watercolor, seemed to jump out of the pages. If Gladio ran a finger over it, he could still feel where the nib of the pen had scratched into the surface of the paper, sending shivers down his spine. 

The beautiful book truly was a treasure, at least to him. The woes and worries of his life right now seemed to get lost in its pages as he consumed the stories with renewed vigor and a desire for those waves of nostalgia. He thumbed through the stories as a faint echo of his mother’s voice whispering them to him traveled through his ears.

That is, until his eyes fell upon a certain visage that rang close to home.

The slanted eyes and pointed ears were what snapped Gladio back to reality. They were familiar to say the least. He examined these pages more closely than he ever had before. There were dark elves, mysterious and violent, high elves, whose magic was more than any other creature’s… and wood elves. It was as though he was a man, dying of thirst in a desert, who had just found water.

Pictures of elves, crouched by withering trees, were drawn next to elves standing by beautifully blooming, healthy ones. Another illustration was of animals flocking to an elf as he sang. Compared to the other elves, the wood elves were beautiful, magical pacifists who hid in the forests and spread their magic among their realm, sharing it rather than hoarding it. Healers wasn’t the right word, but it was the one that sprang to Gladio’s mind.

The next wave of emotion that racked him wasn’t nostalgia, but guilt. Tremendous guilt. Gladio quickly realized that the elf had never intended to harm Carbuncle at all, perhaps he was trying to heal her of whatever ailment was plaguing her. He wished he hadn’t interfered. Perhaps Carbuncle  _ would _ die and it would be his fault, not the elf’s. Gladio sat up, gripping his long, brown locks between his fingers and pulling tight as regret pulled its strings tighter around his heart.

“ _ Túl at- ana i kal _ .”

Gladio’s ears perked at the quiet voice coming in through his window. The sun had finally dipped below the horizon, casting a shadow over the world. The embers of Gladio’s fire still twinkled in his hearth. Gladio crept as quietly as he could to the window, where he peeked out to spy the elf, who was approaching Carbuncle. She nickered softly at his presence, much like she did when she was happy to see Gladio. His heart wrenched at the familiar sound, but he couldn’t, wouldn’t react. For once, he needed that elf to work his accursed magic.

The elf touched Carbuncle with apprehension, his hands spread and fingers wide as he laid them on her head. Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply before slowly moving them down her body until they rested on her belly. Carbuncle snorted and the elf murmured to her with a smile. Gladio bit his tongue as the elf scratched the spot just in front of her hip. It was her favorite spot to be scratched.

Gladio was busy kicking himself for feeling jealous over the elf’s interaction with his horse when the elf began singing. The melody was soft and slow. Gladio could feel calm cascading over himself as he listened, as if he were hovering somewhere between semi consciousness and dreams. The song reminded him of lullabies sung to small children, urging them to sleep.

The elf’s slender hands pressed into Carbuncle’s side, nestling into the fine hairs that covered her stomach. Gladio watched as the elf filled his diaphragm with air before exhaling slowly. The tattoos that covered his body illuminated in a faint glow as his song quieted to a hum and the elf focused his energy elsewhere. His skin lit up like a firefly, sending faint green light cascading over Carbuncle’s side. 

Once the elf had released his breath, the song ended and he lifted his still-glowing hands from Carbuncle, who was now fast asleep. Visibly fatigued, the elf sat back on his haunches and caught his breath before opening his eyes. Gladio tried to duck beneath the windowsill before he was seen, but it was too late. Amber met violet as the two locked eyes. The elf smiled a small, hopeful smile as he nodded to Gladio, who was too shocked to nod back.

He’d fled back to the forest before Gladio could even open his mouth to speak, to thank him for his healing magic. Looking back to his horse, Carbuncle appeared to be much more comfortable, more at ease than she was just moments ago.  _ So the stories are true _ , he thought. The elf really was a peaceful entity. Guilt tried to claw its way back up his insides, but he pushed it down. Now wasn’t the time. Rather than stew on his guilt, he needed to come up with a plan- a plan for peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: I forgot to add my elvish translations  
> Please let me go- _Ni méra an eteleht_  
>  im sorry for hurting you- _Ni'm sorrime an naicele_  
>  come to the light- _Túl at- ana i kal_
> 
> Thanks for reading, commenting, subscribing, kudos-ing, bookmarking... all that lovely shit. You're awesome.
> 
> Please come scream at me on Tumblr: littlestlittlecakes.tumblr.com
> 
> We can talk about how wonderful Prompto is  
> Or maybe how I can't pick a fucking ship to save my life  
> OT4 Polyship Roadtrip forever


	3. A Healing Touch

Gladio awoke that morning, laying on his belly and dearly regretting it. He groaned as he came to his senses. The rash on his chest had spread to his stomach. The red handprint was now a seeping wound that ached and burned, begging him to itch it as hard as he could. Gladio pressed a finger to it experimentally and yelped as he withdrew his hand as quickly as he could, his heartbeat sounding in the spot where his finger had brushed against the wound momentarily.

Cursing under his breath, he got out of bed and pressed his spare shirt to the wound with a wince. It burned at first, like a fire that was just a little too close, but after a few moments the pain subsided to a dull ache. Gladio wondered why the elf’s song last night healed Carbuncle but not him; his first song, the one that had filled the forest with energy and spirit, had cleared his hands and his heart. The one he sang last night had done nothing to help the rash that creeped across him slowly like a slug.

He left his house with his axe and some food in hand to find Carbuncle happily chomping away on the grass behind his forge. Gladio realized that while this place had become his personal hell, it must be her paradise with its endless fields full of lush, beautiful grass. She behaved as if yesterday had never happened, flicking her tail and swiveling her ears to his presence.

“You’re chipper,” he grunted, patting her backside as he walked by. Gladio was surprised to hear her feet plodding behind him as he navigated the forest. He chuckled. “Hoping to find your friend? Yeah, me too.”

The pair moved through the forest, which had left its silent ways behind. The birds flitted between the branches of trees, chirping joyously. The trees themselves swayed in the gentle breeze, caught in the light of the morning sun, which warmed Gladio’s back. He smiled to himself as he trod his familiar path to the hot spring.

The steam rippled off the surface of the hot spring, its humidity curling around Gladio’s body as if to invite him it. The thick, wet air rushed into his nostrils as he closed his eyes and breathed in anxiously. Gladio wasn’t exactly sure if this was a good idea, but it was the only one that seemed like it would work. He stripped his clothes, hanging them on a large rock that stood near the spring.

Gladio could nearly feel the magic pulsing in the rashy skin that covered his body as he carefully stepped into the hot spring. It hardly went up to his knees when his feet settled at its pebbled bottom. He eased himself down to his knees, and after he adjusted to the temperature of the water settling around his body, moved to sit cross-legged. The heat of the water caused his wound to pulse, but the warmth overwhelmed the pain and brought sweet relief.

A groan escaped his lips as he sunk into the water, leaning his back against a boulder and tipping his head forward. The hot spring was everything he hoped it would be; he could feel the tension seeping out of his pores into the water. The dirt and violent memories that  coated his skin and hair washed away too. It was a cathartic experience, sitting in the steaming hot water, letting it scald his skin and burn the pain away.

He found himself wishing for more. He’d developed a theory last night as he lay in bed, agonizing and writhing in pain. The last two times he had seen the elf’s healing magic in the works, the animal or plant in question had been totally vulnerable and open to friend or foe. By exposing himself, quite literally, and placing himself in this compromising position, he was hoping that his pain would attract the elf again to perform his song.

Perhaps not. Maybe he didn’t deserve it after the way he’d acted so brashly the day before. Laying a hand on someone didn’t exactly earn you favors, he thought. The water was nice though, and he could at least stay here a little while. The heat felt good against the skin and it was certainly calming. So calming, quiet, serene…

Gladio drifted off to sleep, snoring gently against the boulder he’d chosen as a pillow.

~`~`~`~

Gladio awoke with a start as he realized he’d been sleeping far too long. It was needed, though. Last night had been a restless night, one filled with agony and regret. When he wasn’t tossing and turning from the discomfort the rash brought him, he was letting his mind linger on the pained look the elf gave him after cursing him with the damn thing. It probably was a last resort for the elf to fall so low as to hurt him in self-defense. Gladio wished he’d never pushed him so far.

Sighing, he tilted his head back to watch the birds flitter overhead. The snap of a twig didn’t let his mind linger long. Gladio’s head whipped behind him to find the source as his hand creeped toward his axe. He had braced himself for a fight but relaxed immediately.

Clutching a small brown satchel to his chest, the elf approached Gladio from behind. His lips were pursed in anticipation as he neared Gladio slowly. Gladio pulled his hand away from the handle of his axe as he realized it was making the other man nervous. “Sorry, just kinda wasn’t expecting you,” he chuckled. The elf blushed and muttered something in his language.

“Right, no Lucian. Gotcha,” Gladio said with a smile, turning in the hot spring to face the elf. “What do you have there?”

The elf frowned, looking at him nervously, before looking away. Gladio laughed at himself, realizing that yet again he’d tried to speak to the elf, who blushed even harder at the sound of Gladio’s rich, deep laughter echoing off the rocks of the spring. He pointed at the small sack that the elf clung to.

Looking at Gladio with suspicion, he took another step near him. Gladio gave him an equally puzzled look before realizing the axe still lingered near his fingertips. He picked it up, eliciting a squeak from the elf, before hurling it into the forest. Gladio rose to his knees and raised both his hands in a sign of surrender, smiling politely.

Violet eyes traced the cuts across Gladio’s right palm, left there by the thorny thicket he’d struggled in, and his face tightened. His eyes travelled from Gladio’s arm to his chest, where he’d risen out of the water onto his knees. Gladio’s heart clenched as he saw the misery in the elf’s visage as he laid eyes on the blistering, weeping handprint risen red in Gladio’s chest. He couldn’t help but frown, too, as the elf placed a hand over his own chest.

Bare feet tread gently through the small grassy clearing as Gladio observed silently, unmoving from his vulnerable posture. It was amazing just how quietly the small blonde could move; Gladio began to wonder if he’d stepped on that stick on purpose, just to give Gladio a heads-up to his presence. It probably was a good idea, when Gladio thought about what he would’ve done had someone snuck up on him while he was naked in the hot spring.

The elf kneeled at the water’s edge by Gladio’s side before beckoning him closer with the wave of a hand. Gladio crawled over to the rocky edge, adjusting his posture so he was kneeling nearly out of the water. The elf deftly untied the knot at the top of the dark brown fabric to reveal a pocket of folded leaves, inside of which was a strange, yellow substance. It smelled strongly of herbs and milk; Gladio was starting to think it was for eating until the other man ran his fingers through it.

“ _ An tye, _ ” the elf said, holding up his fingers, covered in goo.

“Uh,” Gladio said, shooting him a bemused look.

The elf gestured toward Gladio’s chest, biting his lips and wincing at the wound.

“Yeah, it hurts, great observation,” Gladio said sarcastically. 

The blonde couldn’t understand the words, but he picked up on the tone. His eyes drooped and so did his lips, swooping down into a frown. 

“Okay, okay. Sorry.”

Gladio inhaled sharply as the elf touched his wound with the surprisingly cool concoction. It had an instant effect; almost immediately Gladio could see the redness of his skin fading and the welts of ooze shrink back into his skin. The itching was subsiding as well, which perhaps was the greatest relief, causing Gladio to tilt his head back and close his eyes. Slender, chilly fingers danced over Gladio’s muscled torso, gently stroking and spreading until the attentive blonde went back for more of his mixture.

When fingers coated in salve swiped over his tender flesh once again, Gladio couldn’t help the moan of relief that slipped through his parted lips. He looked down to find his companion peeking up at him through his long eyelashes before snapping his eyes down to Gladio’s chest as he applied medicine to the rest of his irritated skin. 

Gladio leaned a little closer until his bare hips brushed against stone and his arms were flexed, lifting himself out of the water so dextrous fingers could reach the irritated skin on his lower abdomen. The elf had spread most of his salve on Gladio’s skin and was skating his palms across tanned flesh, massaging the mixture in where Gladio ached most. He paid the most attention to the center of the rash, being his own handprint bared across Gladio’s chest. Gladio found his breath caught in his chest once again as those careful hands finished their work and left his skin before finding their way to the hot spring to wash away the remaining medicine.

“Thank you,” Gladio said once he’d caught the elf’s eye again, giving him a nod and flashing a smile. The other responded with an enthusiastic grin.

“Gladiolus,” Gladio said, pointing as his own chest. The elf looked at him inquisitively before Gladio saw a flash of recognition in his eyes.

“Prompto,” he said. Prompto’s accent was just as charming in words that Gladio could understand as they were in his native tongue; the elf seemed to purr from deep within his throat and chest as he spoke. A fist crossing his chest in a sign of greeting. Gladio mimicked the motion, getting a smear of salve across his wrist. Laughter rang through the elf like a bell, full and rich in sound. The leaves shook overhead, rustling gently along with Prompto’s laughter.

Gladio smiled. “Prompto, nice to meet you.”

A happy hum coursed through Prompto’s lips. “Gladiolus,” he murmured.

Gladio’s heart jumped in his chest.

~`~`~`~

A brisk bite accompanied the air that morning as Gladio left his house. Fall had come quickly that year, gracing the forest with an unusual smattering of red, gold, and green. Unlike summer’s vibrant energy, the winds of autumn seemed to carry a sleepy lull through the forest. It was as if the trees themselves were getting ready for their long sleep as they donned new colors to celebrate the ending of another happy summer. The chill in the air had forced Gladio to spend his precious coins on warmer clothing as Lestallum was much cooler than Insomnia was. He was especially grateful for his warm, wool shirt now as a strong wind blew through the forest.

Gladio smiled and crossed his arm across his chest at the sight of his friend. Prompto, who had opted for a tunic the same shade as the last tendrils of summer grass, returned the gesture with a broad smile. 

“Gladiolus,” he said, Gladio’s given name curling off the tip of the elf’s tongue like smoke off a full flame. Gladio couldn’t prevent the grin that spread across his face upon hearing his name’s cross Prompto’s lips- no matter how many times he heard it, it always sent a tingle down his spine.

“ _ Mana vardarianna _ ?” Gladio said, the words clumsy and questionably formed. Gladio winced at his own pronunciation and laughed sheepishly. Prompto hid his smile behind a tattooed wrist as violet eyes twinkled at Gladio, who rolled his eyes. “I tried,” he shrugged. Prompto mimicked the posture, though Gladio was nearly positive the blonde had no idea what it meant.

Prompto led Gladio from the hot spring further east away from his house. They always travelled this direction when hunting trees. Gladio thought it was perhaps because Prompto was less familiar with the trees on this end of the forest. Carbuncle walked closely beside Prompto, who set his hand on her shoulder. The two had become close, of course. Gladio believed that Carbuncle had a sense for good people, and it was no surprise to him that she’d pick Prompto. He smirked as he listened to Prompto whisper to her in his native language.

It wasn’t long until they reached a sickly looking oak tree. Gladio could see where a white fungus had taken hold under the bark, creeping throughout the crevices and cracks in the tree’s exterior. He watched carefully as Prompto examined it, swiping his finger through before smelling and tasting the substance with a cringe.

“Bad?” Gladio asked.

“Death,” Prompto whispered as he placed a hand against the trunk of the tree. Its leaves quaked weakly and a few fell to the ground. Eyebrows knitted together, the elf closed his eyes as the tattoos peeking out from under the sleeves of his thick tunic briefly illuminated. He sighed.

“I’m sorry,” Gladio murmured, setting a hand on Prompto’s shoulder. Slim, freckled fingers rose to squeeze Gladio’s briefly before returning to the tree’s trunk.

This would be the one Gladio claimed. It had taken a long time for the two to accept that the other’s needs would conflict with their own life. One had to sacrifice in order for the other to live. Gladio needed wood to tend his fire and create. Without it, he couldn’t make the gil he needed to survive. Gladio wasn’t sure what Prompto needed the woods for, but as time went on, he learned that it was mutual between the elf and the forest.

The trees needed Prompto just as much as he needed them. They almost seemed to feed off of each other in some kind of symbiosis. Prompto seemed to know each tree by name and would murmur them as he greeted them. The sound of leaves rustling and shaking in the branches overhead had become almost musical to Gladio. Trees would quake with what seemed like excitement as Prompto passed them, touching their trunks delicately as if they were lovers meeting after a long absence.

Gladio was almost jealous. Almost.

When they did find a tree that Prompto deemed suitable for the taking, their ritual would begin. They would share a meal at the base of the tree, Gladio assumed to keep the tree company during its final moments. Prompto would sing it his saddest, sweetest song before allowing Gladio to cut it down.

Prompto would always weep openly, often pressed against Carbuncle’s side. The first few times, Prompto wandered into the forest for privacy and to be amongst friends. There had been a time though where Gladio assumed they were cutting a tree Prompto had been particularly fond of. He couldn’t finish singing before huge, wet tears rolled down his cheeks and it was all Gladio could do to tuck the elf under his chin as he clung to Gladio’s shirt and wept. Prompto’s grief was a constant reminder of just how precious every piece of wood was that Gladio used in his craft.

Prompto folded his slender legs under his body elegantly as he sat before untying his pouch, revealing a collection of dried summer fruits and shortbreads. How Prompto even made bread, Gladio didn’t know. If he couldn’t bear to cut a tree, how could he make a fire? The question was lost in the labyrinth of language that stood between them. Maybe someday he would learn.

Gladio grinned as he opened his own pack to pull out a fat wedge of cheese and some sourdough bread. The blonde’s eyes widened as they beheld the crumbling, yellow cheese; he’d finally agreed to try it after weeks of Gladio’s prodding and  _ loved _ it. Gladio had to allow a little extra gil from his coffer each week for it, but he didn’t mind. The delight on Prompto’s face as he savored the tangy, creamy cheese was worth it.

“Ready?” Gladio asked as he wrapped up the scraps and put them in his bag. Prompto pinched his face in apprehension as he reached for Gladio, grasping the large man’s forearm in his delicate hands. Mumbling in Elvish, Prompto shook his head and shut his eyes eyes tight before looking at him, his violet eyes shining. Gladio offered him the most sympathetic smile he could give before resting his hand on top of Prompto’s.

Gladio murmured Prompto’s name, giving him a stern look. They’d had this conversation before, if they could call it a conversation. Prompto seemed so determined to give these trees, these parts of him, to Gladio. Though it had never been spoken, he seemed to understand that they were just as important to Gladio. The blacksmith needed the forest to survive, too. Gladio could feel the passionate intensity of Prompto’s gaze as their eyes met.

“Thank you,” Gladio said. He wanted nothing more than to comfort his companion, to reassure Prompto in his time of grief. Gladio thought, for a brief moment, of holding him against his bare skin, allowing the elf to hear the heart beating strong in his chest as a reminder that this loss of life would sustain another. His heart beat even harder now, with Prompto’s pale hands gripping him tightly and the fantasy of their embrace at the forefront of his mind.

“ _ Mime hon naquanta as tyesse _ ,” Prompto whispered. His voice was so delicate and soft that if Gladio had not been watching his lips move, the words would’ve gotten lost on the breeze. His heart ached with a longing for understanding. Whatever Prompto had said, it was something soft and tender, leaving Gladio wishing that he knew the phrase’s meaning.

The rest of the afternoon went by swiftly. Culling the tree wasn’t as painful a process as it was the last time. Either this tree wasn’t close to him, or Prompto was trying very hard to hold himself together. When the task was done and Gladio was left with the massive tree trunk, Prompto bade him a brief goodbye before gracefully disappearing into the forest like he always did. It wasn’t normal- none of this was  _ normal _ , Gladio reminded himself- for Prompto usually stuck around, occasionally even daring to travel to the edge of the forest itself before they would part ways, though the blonde never left the forest.

Carbuncle hauled the log back to the house, leaving Gladio to drown in his thoughts. He didn’t know how Prompto could be upset with him… not like he would be able to tell him. Perhaps the blonde just needed more time and space to mourn the tree they’d taken. That just made Gladio more upset; he felt like somehow he had been breaking ground with his new, shy friend. 

Were they friends? Sometimes it didn’t feel that way, especially when words failed them and they resolved to touches of the hands, awkward smiles, and lingering eyes to do the talking.

Gladio decided that rather than ruminate on freckles and the color of clematis blooms that he should get some work done. He allowed the sound of steel striking steel, the hiss of water touching red-hot metal, and the cacophony of his work fill his mind. It almost did the trick, too; it was long after the sun went down before the fire finally started to die down in the forge, leaving Gladio standing in his smithy with nothing but fireflies and coals to guide him home. 

Ladle clattering against cast iron, Gladio absentmindedly assembled himself some semblance of a meal. With the way the air had begun to bite exposed skin in the evenings, as it always did in the fall, Gladio decided stew wasn’t his worst idea. He still had some vegetables Prompto had given him that he’d found in the forest the other day, and the meat that had sat simmering over the fire all day still smelled good. He tossed a log on the white hot coals in his hearth, sending a warm light cascading across the room.

Gladio thought he might be going mad when he started to hear Prompto’s singing amidst the bubbling of the stew. Thinking _ this _ much about him couldn’t be healthy. Gladio pressed his fingers to his eyes as he sighed at himself. It really was ridiculous. He was getting attached to Prompto, more so than he would have cared to admit. He carried on with his cooking for several more minutes, stirring his stew with more focus than necessary as he tried to shake the shroud from his mind.

As he heard singing again, though, this time he wasn’t so sure it was his memory taunting him. This melody wasn’t sweet and kind like the song he’d sang the first time they had encountered it each other, and it wasn’t sad and mournful like the one he sang to trees before they passed. This one was desperate, painful, and anxious. Gladio recognized the lyrics, but the melody wasn’t the same. It didn’t have the same grace or composure Prompto maintained when using his magic.

It sent his stomach lurching. Something was up, and it wasn’t good. Gladio strapped his boots on and his thick, wool shirt before stepping outside. He could still hear Prompto, and he wasn’t far off. It wasn’t like his normal singing, where his magic would amplify his voice and could fill space, seeming nearly endless. No, this time his singing was like a shell of its normal self, punctuated with gasps and sobs.

“Prompto!?” Gladio called out into the night as he walked with urgency toward the source of Prompto’s voice. He heard Prompto sob his name before continuing with his desperate singing. Gladio was running now, the cold autumn air stinging his throat and lungs as he drew deep breaths. He wasn’t a runner, not by any means.

Gladio found Prompto in a mess of blood and fur in the field outside his house, far from the forest’s edge. His heart nearly stopped in his chest when he saw it, until he realized that it wasn’t Prompto’s blood that was assaulting his senses. Prompto’s body was hunched over a deer, its body shredded and mangled, surely from some kind of predator. The deer was near dead if not so already.

Prompto had one hand over its heart and another over what surely was the fatal wound across the deer’s belly. Gladio kneeled beside the elf and put a hand on his shoulder. Tears rolled off the elf’s nose as his magic pulsed weakly through him, his tattoos illuminating with each heartbeat. He sang the same song he’d sung to the tree Gladio  wounded when they first met, though this rendition was heart-wrenching and empty.

Gladio waited patiently as Prompto sang it again and again until he was half-singing, half-sobbing and his magic was no longer pulsing through his veins. His body shaking, Prompto pressed himself against the deer as he murmured in his native language and closed his eyes. Gladio was growing concerned; normally Prompto could sing adeptly with no issue.

“Prompto?” Gladio said softly, to which he received no answer.

This time, Gladio spoke more forcefully as he set his hand on Prompto’s back. He could feel the elf quivering under his hand, the skin on his back icy cold through his tunic. Prompto sharply inhaled and caught his breath before placing his hands on the deer once again. This time, his voice was so weak Gladio could barely hear it.

Gladio took Prompto’s wrists in his hands, turning the elf to look at him. “Prompto, I’m sorry,” he said, knowing these were the only words the elf could understand in Lucian. “Death.”

Prompto shook his head as the tears streamed down his tattooed cheeks. He tried, weakly, to free himself from Gladio’s grip. Gladio watched as the elf’s violet eyes disappeared behind his lids and the elf fell to the grass below. He could hear his heart beating in his ears as Gladio tried to make sense of the situation. Prompto had obviously exhausted himself, but he’d never passed out before from using his magic.

Gladio called his name again and again, taking the elf by the shoulders so he could try to urge him awake with gentle shakes. It was no use. The elf’s normally pale complexion was reduced to a ghostly pallor, his freckles grey dots against the skin. Gladio’s breath hitched as he watched the tattoos begin to fade from his skin. He pulled the elf against his chest tightly, clutching him against his body.

Clematis blooms appeared once more in Gladio’s mind as Prompto opened his eyes again. “Gladiolus…”

“What, what do you need?” Gladio asked, the language barrier slipping his mind in his state of panic.

Prompto pointed to the forest as the recognition went off like a firework in Gladio’s brain. He’d never seen the elf stray so far from the forest before. Was that the reason why he was so weak and sickly after expending his magic so quickly? It made sense, but at the same time, Gladio wasn’t really thinking straight and he knew it.

Gladio picked up Prompto in his arms before rushing him straight into the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **ELVISH TRANSLATIONS**  
>  _An tye_ = for the pain  
>  _Mana vardarianna_ = which tree  
>  _Mime hon naquanta as tyesse_ = my heart is full with you in it
> 
> **Thank you SO MUCH for reading!**
> 
> Find me on tumblr @ littlestlittlecakes.tumblr.com


	4. Symphony of Trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio, in a panicked state with an unconscious Prompto, takes him to the forest's hot spring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I'm adding a few chapters. Hope you guys don't mind. I feel this story needs an interlude and an epilogue. Plus I can't stop fucking writing magic.
> 
> Anyway, happy Saturday, enjoy.

Prompto laid limp in Gladio’s arms as he walked into the forest. Darkness encapsulated the trees, each standing as a silent sentinel observing the desperate man with their elf in his arms. Despite the deep twilight quickly descending into night, the trees shook their leaves free, making them fall like golden teardrops from their branches in the twilight.

  
Gladio swiftly moved from boulder to mossy log along his memorized path. There was something about the forest in the dark that made him feel like an outsider. He didn't belong here right now amongst the trees that slept deeply, void of magic and vulnerable. His slowed to a walk as he nervously navigated the unfamiliar landscape that sent a shiver down his spine.

  
Prompto had begun to stir in his arms. Since their re-entry into the forest, color had begun to return to his face. The shaking had stopped, but the elf had an odd stillness about him that made Gladio yearn for a reassuring smile, a fist across his chest, anything to affirm that his companion was still among the living. Prompto's long eyelashes danced against freckled cheeks as he leaned into Gladio’s warmth. The blacksmith merely clutched him tighter as he continued his march into the forest.  
Gladio could taste the familiar moisture in the air as they reached the hot spring. It was then that he realized that he had barely drawn a breath since they entered the forest. As he inhaled, his body filled with a familiar energy. He hoped it would have the same effect on Prompto; a fear of death crossed his mind and rooted itself deeply in his heart. Gladio didn't fear death himself, but he feared it for Prompto at that moment.

  
Although they'd only known each other a short time and had never actually shared a conversation of words, Gladio could feel the strings of fate tying the two of them together. He didn't know if elves formed the same kinds of bonds that people did, but he found himself wishing in his heart of hearts that they did. A yearning had grown deep inside him, one that stirred something that been long dormant. Even if was just a bond of friendship, Gladio could no longer bear the thought of a day where he walked into the forest and didn't lay eyes on freckled tattoos with clematis on his mind.

  
With Prompto on his mind.

  
Gladio carefully stripped the elf of his clothing before undressing. Prompto's skin was sweaty and cold against Gladio’s; this wasn't the first time Gladio had noticed how remarkably cool the blonde was compared to himself, but this was the first time he'd experienced it with such intimacy. Stepping carefully into the water, Gladio lowered himself to a seated position as he held Prompto in his lap, allowing the elf’s head to dip into the water. Blonde hair swirled around his head like a golden halo as Prompto drew an unsteady breath.

  
Relief echoed through him like a stereo in an empty room, filled him, made him whole. He hadn't even realized that fear had nibbled a hole in his heart in an effort to prepare him for more grim possibilities. Perhaps he was too realistic about things. This man in his arms had taught him there were many things in this world to be optimistic about.

  
“Prompto,” Gladio murmured as he dared to let his fingers comb through those straw-blonde locks, which were softer than the finest furs he'd ever felt. Emotion thickened his voice and made it quiver like a bird in hand. He watched intently as long, swooping lashes fluttered lazily. A weak smile crossed full lips.

  
The elf hummed and closed his eyes before speaking. The melody had returned to his voice as he purred weakly. “Gladiolus.”

  
Prompto splayed his fingers across Gladio's chest as the other man held him close. The relief of seeing him smile, just seeing him conscious, nearly swallowed Gladio whole. He slipped his arm out from under Prompto's knees and placed his hand over his companion’s, moving the elf’s soft palm to his heart.

  
Gladio could feel his heart beating at a breakneck pace in his ribcage and knew the other man could feel it too. Prompto's face was one of surprise as he felt it, but swiftly changed to one of adoration as he looked up at Gladio. The elf took Gladio's hand and pressed it to his lithe chest. His heart beat like a hummingbird’s wings; Gladio bit his lip to try to contain his delight.

  
“You scared me,” Gladio murmured as he touched Prompto's face.

  
“I'm sorry.” Prompto's eyes glittered like amethyst as he spoke. “No death… Not today.”

  
Gladio choked back a laugh. “Not today.”

  
Prompto turned his body to wrap his arms around Gladio's neck in a tight embrace as water fell from his body like rain. Gladio returned the sentiment carefully as he set his hands on Prompto's lower back and pulled him close. His skin was clammy to the touch as his naturally cool temperature was warmed by the hot water of the spring. The way Prompto clung to him spoke of emotions one didn't feel when simply holding a friend. They sat there for a long time, holding onto each other as the warm water lapped at their sides.

  
“Gladiolus,” Prompto uttered, sliding his hands from the nape of Gladio's neck to his chest. Gladio was afraid he was going to break their contact, but the elf merely adjusted himself to straddle his partner in the water. Gladio set his hands on Prompto's hips; the blonde looked at him with heavy-lidded eyes. “ _Ni mérilyo tye_.”

  
Gladio smiled at him bittersweetly before pursing his lips and shrugging his shoulders. “I don't know what you're saying.”

  
Prompto sighed exasperatedly as he pushed his wet bangs out of his face, eliciting a chuckle from Gladio. The elf glowered at him before clearing his throat, closing his eyes, and setting his palms on the sensitive skin just behind Gladio's ears and pressing their foreheads together.

  
“ _Ni tátye mime hon, Mime sanda óre_.”

  
Gladio gasped. The tickle of an emotion that didn't belong to him ebbed at his mind’s edge, one of familiarity all the same. His first instinct was to resist, press against it with his own consciousness and not allow the alien sensation in any further. Prompto’s fingertips massaged gently at the ridge of his skull and behind his ears as he murmured sounds of encouragement. Gladio inhaled sharply as he allowed himself this one curiosity and allowed the ebbing feeling to grow.

  
Longing and devotion spilled into Gladio's brain like water bursting from a dam. It flooded the empty corners of Gladio’s mind and mingled with his own emotions that were already coursing through his brain. It was overwhelming at first as he tried to process it all individually, but once he succumbed and allowed it all to mesh together it was wonderful. Prompto’s own emotions were not unlike Gladio’s and he hungered for more. It was as if the shroud that separated them had been lifted, allowing them to feel and know each other like they knew themselves.

  
Gladio pressed his palms to Prompto's hands, begging for more as he dared to peer into the other's eyes. Prompto's were lit with an otherworldly light that matched the faint pulse in his tattoos. To Gladio's dismay, they closed, but only just before Prompto opened his mouth and sang. The melody was quiet at first; Gladio could sense that this was a song Prompto was unsure of, as if he hadn't sung it before.

  
Soon after, the trees and evening birds joined him in a fantastic chorus that harmonized in the most pleasant way, bringing a smile to the elf’s graceful features. The rustling of leaves and branches provided percussion while the sweet songs of the birds overhead were the secondary melody. Prompto’s voice had grown to echo through every branch and crevice of every tree, filling every empty space with sound.

  
As Prompto's song cascaded through the forest like the most brilliant of symphonies, the emotions that spilled from his fingertips straight into Gladio's heart grew, too. Gladio's heart was filled with the love to match what had been brewing inside him for so long. It felt as if he might explode from being so full of adoration, of love, that belonged to both him and his companion.

  
The forest was brought to a beautifully still silence once the song was over. It was as if the life that surrounded them fell quiet in reverence of their moment. Gladio could feel Prompto’s chest heaving against his own as he recovered. It must have taken him a great deal of energy and magic to sing to Gladio as he shared such a private part of himself.

  
Gladio was amazed at how he couldn't have seen it before. How he couldn't have known, just from looking, that they felt the same. It was as if a simple touch had opened his eyes, truly, to the world around him, and his heart as well. Though Gladio knew there was a great, big world around them that threatened to swallow them whole, he allowed himself to feel safe and small in his lover’s embrace, in this tiny bubble they’d made for themselves.

Cupping Prompto's face in his hands, Gladio pulled him in close until their noses touched and he could see the nervous excitement in those violet eyes and the flush in freckled cheeks. He could taste the sweet breath that fell from elven lips and enjoy the person that he felt for so deeply it almost hurt. Prompto was entranced with Gladio’s movements, sighing with anticipation as Gladio’s lips touched his cheek. He snaked his fingers through Gladio's thick, brown hair and ran them down his spine. The elf was exploring every facet of Gladio's physical being with his fingers.

  
Gladio’s lips brushed the corner of Prompto's mouth in a careful kiss. He could feel his blood pumping through his body straight to the heat pooling low in his belly. The sensation made his brain grow fuzzy with want. He sunk his large fingers into the pale flesh of Prompto's hips, pulling the blonde closer as their mouths collided.

  
A smile curled at the corners of Prompto's lips; Gladio could feel it as he kissed him again and again. It was like tasting a flavor he'd long forgotten that filled his heart with a satisfying warmth. Prompto's fingers curled in his hair as he lifted himself up to Gladio's eye level and out of the water.

  
He groaned as Prompto kissed him and pressed his small frame against Gladio's. Legs and arms tangled around Gladio as he became swept up in the heat of the moment. Gladio peppered Prompto's slim chest with kisses and passed over his delicate collarbone with the tip of his tongue. Prompto's skin tasted of herbs and salt as he sucked marks into it hungrily, the red skin clashing with the green that streaked through it.

  
Prompto ran his fingers through Gladio's hair as he looked down at him through heavy lids, his violet irises mere rings around his thick pupils. Gladio loved him like this; swept up in his arms, their nakedness pressed together, with eyes only for each other as they kissed. He wanted more, longed to be physically connected as well as emotionally. Pulling him back down below the water, Gladio allowed his hardness to graze the inside of Prompto's thigh as the elf returned to straddling the blacksmith's lap.

  
The gasp that passing sensation elicited was heady with excitement. Gladio could feel Prompto shiver under the gentle strength of his hands. The elf in his arms kissed him desperately, hungrily, with new passion that replaced trepidation. Gladio was happy to oblige as he squeezed Prompto's backside and bucked his hips up, grinding their lengths together.

  
“Gladiolus,” Prompto gasped, his naked body squirming against Gladio's, to which Gladio responded with a pleased hum as he bit and sucked on Prompto's collarbone. He could feel the slender elf’s member growing even harder against his own. Gladio wanted to hear more of him, to feel him come undone as they made love to each other, lost in the magic of the forest’s midnight hour.

  
Gladio wrapped his fingers around Prompto's length, causing the blonde to inhale sharply as his back arched into Gladio's curious hand. Prompto was eager to return the gesture, his nimble hands finding their way to Gladio's thick member and pumping it. The heat of the water and the feeling of Prompto's hands on him was making Gladio dizzy. He buried his face in the crook of the blondes neck and with his free hand cupped his ass.

  
The two explored each other's bodies lazily in the warm water. “Want you,” Gladio grunted as his hand wrapped around both their lengths, pleasuring them both with the new friction they made as they rubbed against each other. Prompto was slowly reducing to pants and gasps as he writhed in Gladio's lap and the warm water swirled around them.

  
“Want you,” Prompto breathed, pressing his forehead to Gladio's. He knew Prompto understood the words; they'd made little chips at the language barrier, and thankfully these two words were part of that tiny advancement. Gladio's heart surged as they looked into each other's eyes.

  
He tried to recall exactly how they'd found themselves in this position, but his mind felt as though it were swept up in an endless sea of it all. The anger. The confusion. The hopeful ember of understanding that had exploded into a bright flame of passion.

  
Gladio truly felt it as he pressed a finger to Prompto's entrance, lovingly preparing him with slow, languid play. The deliberate, careful kisses Prompto gave him came apart, transforming to sloppy, needy kisses with eager passes of his tongue through Gladio's parted lips. Gladio held Prompto tight in his arms as he slipped another finger inside him.

  
“Want you, want you,” Prompto pleaded as he pushed against Gladio's probing fingers and kissed him fervently. He could feel Prompto's heat loosening around his fingers and wondered if it would feel the same to him as it did when he did it to himself… Gladio twitched his fingers in a come hither motion with curiosity.

  
Prompto keened, his head falling back and ecstasy twisting his features into a gorgeous smile as Gladio stroked the pads of his fingers against Prompto's prostate. Gladio grinned deviously; he so enjoyed watching this delicate, graceful creature fall to pieces in his arms.

  
Gladio removed his fingers from Prompto's entrance before positioning himself, allowing the tip to gently press against it. His eyes searched his partner's for confirmation, approval, anything. He didn't know how to ask permission when he didn't even know how to ask what day it was.

  
Prompto smiled affectionately at him before pressing a tender kiss to his lips. A shiver travelled down Gladio's spine as Prompto said yes without speaking a word; his eyes fluttered shut and lips parted with a gasp as he sunk down on Gladio's erection until he was buried to the hilt. Gladio was eager to hold his lover in his arms and press kisses to every bare inch of skin he could reach.

  
From there it was a frenzy; neither could contain themselves once Gladio was inside and Prompto was clawing at his back. Hands held firm on Prompto's ass, Gladio fucked him slowly, allowing himself the pleasure of feeling every inch of his lover. Prompto willingly handed over control of the pace as he occupied himself with lavishing Gladio's lips and face with hungry kisses punctuated by heavy breaths. The forest echoed with the slosh of water and unintelligible sounds of love-making.

  
Pleasure was growing quickly in Gladio's gut. He'd never been so completely taken by someone before and the affection that saturated his brain was only increasing the lust with which he fucked Prompto. His body was warm and tight around Gladio's erection. He wrapped his hand around Prompto's cock once again, stroking it in time with his thrusts. It wasn’t long now; the elf quivered and shook like a leaf in Gladio’s lap as they brought each other to climax.

  
Prompto came first, spilling his seed over Gladio's fist with a scream as Gladio rolled his hips into his lover. The sound of Prompto's ecstasy ringing through the trees in the silence of the night only wound the coil in Gladio's gut tighter, threatening to burst. It only lasted a few more strokes. Gladio quickly became a complete mess underneath the elf, clinging to him as Prompto rode him to completion.

  
The only word he could speak was Prompto's name as he lavished his partner with kisses and comforting touches. He was desperate to feel every inch of skin, to show Prompto how much he loved and desired him. Prompto, still full of Gladio's length, trembled underneath powerful fingers and laid his weight against the larger man's chest.

  
It felt like they could have laid there all night, languid in the hot water and aftershocks of pleasure. Their arms were full of each other. Exhaustion overcame Gladio as he began to drift into unconsciousness, willed strongly by sleep, but Prompto held him in the waking world like an anchor.

  
“Gladiolus,” Prompto whispered urgently as his fingers stroked Gladio’s bearded chin. “Home, Gladio,” he urged.

  
Gladio groaned as he lifted his head to look at Prompto, who pointed in the direction of his house. “Got it,” he muttered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Prompto smiled; Gladio could see the cusp of sleep amidst the clematis irises. The two managed to pry themselves from the warmth of the water and into the stark, chilly air. Wet fabric clung to their bodies as the two hurried back to Gladio’s house with their fingers interlocked and smiles stretching across sore lips.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of your comments/kudos/views are so deeply appreciated. Thanks for taking the time to read Laurië Lantar Lassi.
> 
> As always, here are the translations:  
>  **Ni mérilyo tye** : I need you  
>  **Ni tátye mime hon, Mime sanda óre** I show my heart and its true feelings


	5. Winter's Grasp

“Sky. Yes? Sky?”

“Yes, that’s the sky.  _ Wilya? _ ”

“Right! Um... grass…” Prompto said, skating his palms over the fading blades. His voice was questioning, apprehensive, as he twisted around to look at Gladio expectantly. Prompto was waiting for the blacksmith to answer him in Elvish. It was a silly game they’d taken to playing together lately. Gladio laughed and shrugged, earning a frown from Prompto. Gladio muttered, “sorry. I forgot.”

“What?” Prompto asked, his accent twisting the word. That accent was pleasant to the ear, and as much as Gladio loved chatting with Prompto- now that they could, in simple conversation- sometimes he just laid back and listened to Prompto regale him with old stories in his native tongue.

Gladio pointed to his temple, and then away, mimicking a thought escaping his mind. Prompto’s eyes lit up. “Oh! Grass,  _ salque. _ ”

Prompto sighed as he leaned back against Gladio. It still astounded Gladio how petite the elf was. He was like a feather in Gladio’s lap, lightweight and fragile, yet soft and strong. He was just as soft as one, both in temperament and touch. Downy, blonde hair tickled at Gladio’s bearded chin as Prompto looked up at the naked branches of the tree above them, muttering something about sleep in his native tongue, as he always did when his mind wandered.

The late afternoon brought about a sense of limbo. As the day grew shorter with winter beginning her slow creep, the afternoons felt so short. It wasn’t hard for Gladio to find himself wasting away the morning in a lackadaisical fashion most days when the afternoon was following close behind. Today was no exception; Gladio had woken up late with a certain elf pressed against his body. It wasn’t hard to choose the comfort of his lover’s touch over responsibilities that seemed so far away now.

Of course, time continued its unending march. Winter’s whisper could be found nearly everywhere. It hid in the shade, gracing the tips of grass with an icy kiss. Leaves littered the ground, dead and crumpled, scarcely shadows of their former verdant glory. At night, that whisper would whistle through Gladio’s open windows, forcing him to burrow deeply under the furs laid atop it and snuggle his sleeping partner.

Gladio wasn’t the only one responding to the foreboding frost and winter chills the trees had grown silent in preparation for  the coming months. Since the leaves had fallen, they had been robbed of their voices, and empty branches swung lazily in the wind. The click and scrape of bare branches sent shivers down Gladio’s spine. Without their sound, the forest was eerily quiet.

Shortly after green left the trees, their spirit did too. It was as if each tree stood silent and cold as stone. Not even Prompto could bring a rise. Gladio’s heart ached as he watched the elf whisper and touch the trees as they passed by. It was obvious he missed their familiar quake, the rustle of leaves that seemed to respond with familiarity to his ancient magic. Prompto tried his best to explain the phenomenon, but in the end, all he’d managed to convey was sleep. The trees were sleeping.

“Gladio,” Prompto said, crawling out of his lap and turning to face him. “Word for this.”

As he spoke, he took Gladio’s fingers and pressed them firmly against his lips. Long lashes fluttered as he looked into Gladio’s eyes. The shy smile that twisted his mouth nearly seized Gladio’s heart. How Prompto could manage to say everything he needed to with just his eyes and the touch of his lips was still a mystery to Gladio, who felt rooted in his need for words and language. Words had finally begun to stop failing them, though. With all the time they spent together, the enormous gap that separated them seemed to begin stitching itself together, slowly, but surely.

They had finally come up with a system for when a word in the other’s language escaped them. It had taken nearly an entire morning, their bodies twisted together in bed, trying to teach each other a phrase, a word, to show need for more. Prompto used it almost all the time, seeming to be fascinated with absorbing as much Lucian as he could. 

“Lips,” Gladio said, touching his lips with his free hand.

Prompto’s laugh chimed through the empty forest. “No, no. Word for  _ this.” _

Gladio set his hands on Prompto’s hips as the blonde moved to straddle him, the thick fabric of his tunic sliding up his legs to reveal pale, creamy thighs. He couldn’t deny himself the chance to run his fingers down them, to feel that smooth, supple skin against his calloused and scarred hands. Where Gladio was marked and marred, Prompto was perfect. Prompto snaked his arms around Gladio’s neck, smiling as his face grew ever closer until clematis-colored eyes fluttered shut and his cool lips were against Gladio’s.

A happy hum echoed through him as he kissed Prompto tenderly. The elf’s lips and mouth were skilled, and he already knew how to play Gladio like a fiddle. His tongue slipped against his lower lip, asking for permission for more, to which Gladio happily obliged. The two kissed lazily in the dappled shade of late afternoon.

“Word for this.”

“Kiss.” Gladio said, pulling Prompto down for another. “In Elvish?”

Prompto’s nose grazed his as he shook his head. “No word, ‘kiss’.”

Gladio frowned. “No kissing?”

“No kissing.”

Prompto kissed the corner of Gladio’s frown. “No, please _. Eala as tye nalasse.  _ We are happy.”

Pulling Prompto tightly against his chest, Gladio couldn’t help but wonder how it could be that someone as enthralling had never been touched in such a manner before. Then again, it could be that that was just the way of his people. It only made Gladio want to hold him tighter as a sharp, cold wind rushed through the trees. Branches scraped and shrieked under its force. Prompto pulled away from Gladio’s grip and set a hand flat against the trunk of the tree they leaned against, brow furrowed in concentration. Green tattoos pulsed briefly in his skin.

“What is it, Prompto?” Gladio asked, tracing the green in Prompto’s thighs with his fingers.

Prompto closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. “We need to go,” he said, rising to his feet. The dying grass crunched under his feet as he began walking away, toward the outskirts of the forest.

“Prompto,” Gladio called, trying to gather their belongings they had left scattered at the base of the tree. “Prompto, wait!”

“No time, Gladio,” Prompt yelled, turning around to face him. “She’s here!”

“Who??”

_ “Hríve _ , Winter.”

  
  


The crash of a tree trunk hitting the forest floor echoed endlessly. The sound couldn’t seem to leave Gladio’s ears after a day of chopping down tree after tree. Splinters littered his palms along with bits of grass and dirt. The muscles in his back cried out for reprieve as he dragged the log onto Carbuncles cart.

Prompto, standing beside the chestnut mare, still had his face buried in her wiry mane. His shoulders shook weakly as he sobbed into her shoulder. Gladio caught a glimpse of red-rimmed eyes as he peeked at him from beyond the comfort of Gladio’s companion. Upon his discovery of Gladio’s gaze, though, he retreated back to his hiding place.

It was the sixth tree that day. The eighteenth tree that week. They had taken so many now that Gladio couldn’t distinguish which tree from which; the sacred act was losing its solemnity now, and instead of having the time to appreciate each tree’s gift, their corpses were beginning to blend together. It made Gladio’s heart ache with worry, for he wasn’t the one hungry for death.

His slender, solemn companion drove them each and every day to collect as much lumber as they could. Since they’d spent that brief time under Prompto’s favorite elm that fateful afternoon, the elf had woken him each day before the sun rose, badgered him right out of bed and into the forest. They’d wandered far and wide in their hunt, even going so far as to travel around Lestallum itself in the safety of morning’s dim light to find more ailing, old trees on its other side.

The elf’s strong drive to take trees, combined with the grief for each one, was making him a little manic. Tears streamed down his face as he stumbled through the dead grasses and shrubs, pressing his palms to silent, naked trees. He was the lone coal left in the hearth that was the forest, which seemed deep in its slumber. Prompto’s loneliness, his desperation, it all came tumbling out in each sob that felt like a stab to Gladio’s heart. Pressing his palms to a particularly large tree, his tattoos pulsed as he probed with his magic.

“This one, Gladio,” he choked.

“No, Prom,” Gladio urged, closing strong fingers around Prompto’s delicate wrist. “No more.”

Prompto ripped himself from Gladio’s grip and grabbed the axe from where it lay beside the blacksmith. He pressed his palm to the tree once more and began to whisper his culling spell, the foreign words having lost their gracefulness to his hiccups. Nevertheless, Prompto swung the axe. His slender arms were unaccustomed to the weight of the axe's swing, and the flat of the blade merely bounced off the tree. Pressing his body to the tree, Prompto swore again before finally giving in. Gladio watched on with anxiety as it seemed like the elf was coming apart at the seams.

“Why? Why so many?” Gladio asked.

“Winter,” Prompto hiccuped. “She’s here.”

Gladio held his arms out in invitation to the somber blonde. Prompto clung to him, the green cloak slung about his shoulders trembling with the quiver of his body, surely wrought by exhaustion. Gladio ran his fingers through golden locks as he murmured words of encouragement; Prompto had been pushing so hard for what seemed like Gladio’s benefit alone.

It was several more minutes before Prompto gained enough composure to stop sobbing into the thick wool of Gladio’s shirt. Pulling back, Gladio smiled bittersweetly at his companion, touching his reddened cheeks softly and looking into his tear-stained eyes. Prompto’s clematis-colored eyes were full of trepidation and anxiety. Gladio hadn’t seen fear there like he did in that moment since their first encounter.

“Prompto, you okay?” Gladio murmured, brushing an errant tear from the elf’s freckled cheek. His companion only fell back into his embrace, clinging white-knuckled to Gladio’s shirt.

“I have to go soon,” Prompto muttered.

Gladio frowned as he gazed into those fearful, lavender eyes once again. “Where are you going?”

Prompto bit at his lip and toyed with the soft fabric of Gladio’s clothing for awhile, nervously looking up at him as he wracked his brain trying to think of the words. “Word, word for…” Furrowing his brow and fighting back tears, the elf muttered something darkly under his breath before waving his hand through the air. “ _ Cúma _ ,” Prompto hissed as fat, wet tears spilled from his eyes.

“Shh,” Gladio murmured, pulling the elf to his chest and leaning against the wooden cart. As Gladio stood, listening to the sobs that shook his lover’s chest and cleaved his heart in two, he watched as a lone bird flew against a backdrop of gray. Aside from Carbuncle shifting her weight, causing the hardware in her harness to jingle against itself, it was oddly quiet, as if those billowing clouds swallowed up all the sound.

Flakes fell from the sky, fat and heavy, drifting silently to kiss the ground below. Gladio held a hand out, catching one in his palm to feel its icy touch and watch it melt from the warmth of his skin. It was entrancing, seeing the very first snow of the season. Ethereal and magnificent, winter’s arrival came not with a boom, but with a silent cascade of beauty.

“Snow,” Gladio murmured, watching as a particularly large flake nestled itself in Prompto’s blonde hair. With a gasp, Prompto pulled away from his embrace and reached out, catching a snowflake in his hands. Rather than melt instantly, it clung to his skin like leaves to a tree. The flakes were falling in a constant stream now like confetti.

Prompto’s voice shook as he spoke. “No,” he murmured. “No, no no,” he said again, each becoming louder and more desperate. “Not now.”

“Prompto?” Gladio asked, watching Prompto’s frenzy with trepidation.

“Gladio,” the elf said, pressing an urgent kiss to the curve of his jaw. “Meet me in the forest tonight. Late.”

“Why?” Gladio asked, grabbing his hand.

Prompto shook his head, the fear in his eyes replaced with grief. “No time,  _ mihon _ . Tonight.”

  
  
  
  


The full moon shone a lonely glow over the thin sheet of snow that covered the barren forest floor. It crunched dully under Gladio’s boots as he walked into the forest. Without the abundant greenery, there was monochrome spread over the life that once flourished under the sun’s cheerful rays. The juxtaposition the nighttime set in the scene with a lack of color and almost endless darkness spreading throughout the barren tree trunks was chilling.

The absence of life made the forest floor seem almost other-worldly. He missed the squirrels leaping boldly from branch to branch, the pale pink flowers that dotted the underbrush, and the fragrant mosses that painted the rocks and shady sides of tree trunks. Now, the slumbering giants cast growing shadows that crept like fingers across the snow. Their waving branches only added to their mystique and the apprehension growing in Gladio’s guts.

He extended a hand, reaching out into the shadows, just to remind himself that the world wasn’t pale and apathetic. The rosy tone of his skin was gone, replaced by paleness that was sure to grow into a bluish hue if he stayed out in the wilds too long. Gladio clutched at his outer layer, holding it close to the skin laid bare by the deep neck of his tunic as he marched into the forest. Prompto hadn’t told him where or when to meet, but he had a feeling he knew exactly where the elf had intended to meet him.

Gladio walked for what felt like awhile. The brambles that had snagged his bare skin months ago still stood strong and lush despite the bitter cold that assaulted every other thing in the forest. They seemed to stiffen at his presence, standing strong as Gladio nudged a leather-clad toe at them. Gladio smirked at the plant; it wasn’t nature, but magic that had held him back all this time.

Footfall crunched in the snow just ahead and Gladio looked up to find Prompto walking up to the opposite side of the nasty shrub.

“ _ Terculcuile, _ ” Prompto commanded, pushing his way through the vile plant, which seemed to jump away at his touch. “Come, Gladio, it fights back.”

“Alright then,” Gladio said with a grin, stepping carefully over snarls and tendrils. Prompto cursed at the plant under his breath as it snagged the leg of his tunic. Prompto’s bare feet were reddened by the cold snow below. “Prompto, your feet!” Gladio huffed, pointing and frowning.

Prompto waved it off, unhindered by the snow as he walked into the thickest part of the forest. As they traveled, the trees grew so close together that there was barely any snow on the ground. Gladio’s hand found Prompto’s, which was unusually warm against his numbed fingers. Had Gladio already grown that cold? His freezing limbs begged for the heat of the furs tossed haphazardly across his bed. Maybe they could go back there soon, feed the fire in his hearth until it licked the walls of the chimney and love each other wholly until the act filled them both with warmth.

The trees were so close now that Gladio barely had to reach out to touch them. More nasty, thorny plants grew along their trunks. Thankfully, they retreated at Prompto’s touch as if his fingers were made of flame.

“Surprises, surprises,” Gladio teased.

“I have many,” Prompto jabbed back, squeezing Gladio’s fingers. “We are close, so quiet, please.”

“Close to where?”

“Shhhhh,” Prompto said, touching his finger to his lips with a demure smile. Gladio eyed him suspiciously, wondering what they could possibly be approaching, when moonlight erupted overhead, and Gladio found them standing at the edge of a large clearing. From here, he could see the empty lanterns that swung from arching, curled tree branches and snow-covered fences, all made of shrubs and bushes that had grown to interlock with each other. The clearing was filled with signs of life, yet none was there; the lack thereof made the hair stand and prickle on Gladio’s neck.

On the opposite end of the clearing stood a massive tree, at least twice the height of any other tree in the forest with a trunk that had a girth that could compete with Gladio’s house in size. The roots twisted and turned to form a human-sized opening at the bottom that was covered with leaves and vines that were as green as summer grass, despite the cold. Its long, swinging branches were dotted with ethereal purple blossoms. The mere sight of the verdant giant took Gladio’s breath away; its presence filled Gladio with familiar energy and spirit, much like the rest of the forest had during its waking season.

“Come,” Prompto whispered, taking Gladio by the hand and walking him through the vacant fields. Gladio couldn’t take his eyes off the tree. Though its branches rustled and moved like a wind blew, there was none. The air here was so still Gladio could feel the air rush from his nose as he exhaled. It was something he’d never noticed before. It only rustled and moved more as Prompto and Gladio approached.

Looking at his partner, he couldn’t help but notice the radical change in Prompto. His eyes were large and glassy as he looked on at the tree; it was as if he were hypnotized. The closer they got, the faster they moved, until the elf was pulling his companion by the hand as he jogged ahead. Gladio couldn’t sense it, and even though  he knew there was some kind of bond between Prompto and this tree, every instinct within him was telling him to exercise caution. The magic reverberated through the air, through him, as they grew closer.

Prompto approached the tree with his arms outstretched, grasping it firmly around the trunk, embracing it as if it were a friend. The leaves overhead shook and for the first time, the sound of branches colliding and leaves rustling filled the air around them. He could barely hear Prompto singing a happy song as he held it in his arms.

“Prompto?” Gladio asked apprehensively. “What… what is this?”

Prompto jumped as if Gladio had startled him.  _ “Apsentye _ ,” he said, smiling at Gladio as he relinquished his grip on the tree. “Gladio, this is…” his face screwed up in thought. “Mother tree.”

“Mother tree?” Gladio asked skeptically. “You came from… it? Her?”

Prompto nodded.

“All elves come from the Mother tree?”

Prompto shook his head. “Only  _ elessni _ , magic elves.”

“Oh,” Gladio said, looking up at the tree.

“You greet Mother, too,” Prompto said with a smile, giving Gladio a gentle push in the direction of the massive entity. Gladio looked up at it and its branches quaked overhead.

Prompto laughed. “Mother says hello.”

“Uh, hello… Mother?” Gladio said, looking at Prompto for approval, who was practically squirming in delight.

“No, no, touch Mother. She has no ears, Gladio.”

Gladio bit his lip before looking at Prompto. Sure, things had been a little odd since they’d met. Prompto wasn’t like anyone he’d ever known in his entire life. The blonde’s eyes were lit up in excitement and caught the moonlight in their reflection as they gazed back at him with adoration and happiness. It brought some comfort to Gladio’s uneasiness; the love there reminded Gladio that Prompto was safe, that he would never put him in harm’s way, no matter how strange things got. Gladio smiled warmly at him before approaching the tree.

Gladio stretched his arms out wide, much like Prompto did when he touched the tree. Laughter like bells echoed through the clearing as Gladio touched his chest to it and awkwardly folded his fingers around ridges in the trunk. It only took a moment for the tree to react to Gladio’s touch; it was just like when Prompto had shared with him so intimately in the hot spring, like there were fingers probing at the edge of his mind again, only this time he knew to relax. An overwhelming sense of joy and warmth flooded his brain, causing him to smile as he clung to the tree’s massive trunk.

“Ah, Gladio, so happy. Mother likes you,” Prompto said. Gladio opened his eyes to see tears streaming down his face.

“Prompto, no.  _ Eala as tye nalasse.” _

The tree shook again at Gladio’s words and Prompto looked up at the leaves, his eyes bright as he smiled. “She agrees. We’re happy,” Prompto said reassuringly, touching the tree. Gladio realized that Prompto wasn’t talking to him, but the tree itself. His tattoos flashed so brightly under the surface of his skin that for a moment, the lavender color of his eyes was overwhelmed with jade. He laughed again before dropping his hand from the gnarled bark. Gladio took a deep breath before stepping away from Mother, almost missing the gentle touch of her against his mind.

Prompto’s eyes are soft as he steps toward Gladio, taking his gnarled hands in his perfect, smooth fingers with a gentle touch. Everything about him was gentle, Gladio realized as his heart swelled, from the touch of his lips to the stolen looks Gladio would find him taking from time to time. He adored everything about him and only wished he knew how to say it. Instead, he took the hands in his and pressed them to his neck before he looked into Prompto’s questioning eyes.

“Please, feel me,” Gladio whispered thickly.

Prompto’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “Yes,  _ mihon, ni tátye mime hon. _ ”

Gladio closed his eyes and concentrated, his mind more than ready as foreign feelings once again pushed at the edges. He turned his head slightly to press his lips against the inside of Prompto’s wrist in a kiss before exhaling shakily. Prompto’s feelings rushed in like an avalanche, mixing and mingling with Gladio’s until he didn’t know whose was whose anymore. There was no singular entity anymore, they were so perfectly blended. Opening his eyes, they met the glowing visage of his lover, who smiled at him tenderly.

“I love you,” Gladio murmured. The words stuck in his throat like honey; it was hard to even find words when they were linked like this.

“ _ Ni mel tye _ ,” Prompto said. He seemed to struggle for words, too, and pressed a kiss before releasing Gladio from his gentle grasp. Gladio held him against his chest, pressing kisses to his lips, face, and halo of blonde locks.

Prompto muttered against the scratchy wool of Gladio’s tunic. “I have to go soon.”

“Stay,” Gladio begged. “Please?”

“Winter’s here,” Prompto faltered. “I can’t stay, have to sleep until spring.”

Gladio shook his head. His eyes were growing hot, and if they were going to say goodbye, he didn’t want it to be like this. If he cried, he knew Prompto would cry, and then they would fall into disrepair together. The last image he wanted of his lover was a happy, warm thought, one he could remember during the freezing nights to come. “ _ Eala-” _ Gladio gasped as his throat seemed to close up and then chuckled at his own fragility.

“ _ As tye nalasse, _ ” Prompto said, wrapping his arms around Gladio. “Be good,  _ mihon. _ ”

“I will,” Gladio whispered. Snow began to fall in a thick curtain, swallowing up the sky and moonlight. Prompto kissed Gladio once more, desperate and wanton, as Mother tree shook her branches above. Prompto gasped and sighed against Gladio’s mouth, kissing him once more, before pulling away.

“Time to go.”

“Goodbye,” Gladio said, squeezing Prompto’s hand before turning to walk away.

“Find me at the spring when it rains,” Prompto called. “I’ll be there.”

Gladio looked over his shoulder to say goodbye one last time, but Prompto was gone. Overhead, Mother tree’s branches stood barren, just like her smaller counterparts. Where her leaves fell, Gladio didn’t know; the ground beneath her was covered with snow and it was only getting thicker.

As he exited the clearing, the rustling of leaves and laughter like bells filled his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of fucking Elvish in this chapter that I _totally wrote down translations for_  
>  It's coming to the point where there's some slang? Sorry.  
> Some of it's like, in there. You can guess at the very beginning that they're teaching each other vocabulary, but here's the rest of it:  
>  _Terculcuile_ : Roughly translates to "back, stupid plant"  
>  _Apsentye_ : "Apologies"  
>  _Eala as tye nalasse_ : "we're happy", more poetically, the direct translation is "we are full of joy"  
>  _ni tátye mime hon_ : My heart's true feelings.  
>  _Ni mel tye_ : I love you  
> as for _mihon_ , that's where the slang comes in. _Mime hon_ is "my heart", but Prompto calls Gladio a shortened version, "mihon".
> 
> I have no excuse for my borderline obsession with this language, thanks for tolerating it.


	6. In the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto and Gladio reunite after a long winter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After some contemplation and conversations with my precious beta [jibberjabber13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jibberjabber13), I kind of realized that with the direction this story is going in, if I want it to be as good as it can be, it needs more depth, more time to be told, so I'm taking off the chapter count. /shrug/ I don't think it'll last longer than 15 chapters, but with Prompto and Gladio, I'm never quite sure when they're done. ANYWAY! Enjoy the chapter, sorry for the delayed update.

An icy haze had settled in the clearing when Prompto woke, and it tickled his skin and made him shiver. As he moved, the ice that had frozen across his skin in lacy patterns fragmented and fell. Its crackling and popping was music to his ears, telling him that the sleep was over, that the world was bound to start anew. Turning to his side, he pressed his cheek against the smooth wood of Mother’s trunk and breathed deeply.

It always took a moment for the magic to take; it was like she was waiting for him, waiting for the gentle touch of his hand and reach of his mind. There was a spark of excitement, a swell of joy waiting for him at his fingertips. Prompto pushed a feeling of happiness out, and it emanated through him like a swig of mead, warming his body.

A rush of happiness sent in return shot down his spine and tingled in his fingertips. He bit his lip to hold back the nervous excitement he felt at her greeting. Peeking out through a gap in the branches, he could see that there were still patches of snow hiding in the shade that persisted, refusing to melt despite the warmth that was beginning to cloak the air. Even the icy shroud that still clung to his arms began to melt away as he moved and warmed his body.

Once the snow was gone and it finally rained, Mother would wake and he could resume his duties. For now, though, it was time for celebration. The clan would always welcome spring with dance and song; he was surprised that the humans in the nearby village couldn’t hear them and their raucous laughter. That was probably Mother’s work, though- with her presence came solitude and prosperity.

Prompto dressed himself before he climbed from his perch hidden deep within her trunk. The others’ sleeping places were empty; they were all probably already awake. They had gone to rest much earlier in the season than he had. Prompto had spent several days fighting slumber that called to him from within himself, trying to stay awake as long as he could, for Gladio needed him. It wasn’t like he could allow the blacksmith to take trees as he wished. There was a process, there were rules, and it was Prompto’s job to uphold those rules.

There was an opening, a small one among the twisted branches that Mother grew to protect them within herself, that he could slip through effortlessly. He was high up. Now he could see the others, scattered through the clearing and deeper into the forest, as small as squirrels from this high atop his perch. Prompto gripped branches between his hands and his feet found familiar holds as he scrambled to the top of the branches.

Sunlight kissed his face with its bright, comforting lips, dissolving the chilly moisture on his skin and warming his skin. He sighed happily as he peeked out from behind verdant leaves and purple blossoms to behold the forest in all its graces; from here, he could see the tops of trees beginning to fill out with leaves. The canopy of the trees were like a patchwork quilt, with spots of green amidst the brown like little patches of promise. There weren’t many, but there were enough to call it spring. Prompto gripped a branch tightly, letting the happiness ooze out through him to feel excitement ripple through him in response.

Prompto settled his gaze on a tiny stream of smoke that rose in the air, twisting and curling like a vine. He could smell the spring onions roasting now if he tried hard enough, and the tea that Gladio liked to brew in the mornings. His eyelids fluttered shut at the thought of strong, tattooed arms ensconcing him in their safe, sure grip.

The rain couldn’t come fast enough. Thankfully, it didn’t look like he would have to wait long. Dark, menacing clouds were gathering beyond the mountains that bordered the forest. Even now, from this far away, Prompto could hear the faint boom of thunder cascading through grey, pillowy clouds. With each boom, his heart leaped in his chest.

Gladio and Prompto would greet each other with a symphony of sound surrounding them: thunder cracking overhead like percussion, the soft patter of rainfall dancing across the leaves like melody, and their voices rising to meet it. It would surely be a masterpiece of sound, one to shake the deepest of veins love that traveled through their hearts.

The thought of it alone made him squirm with excitement. Gladio’s lips, chapped and hungry, his hands, marred and gentle, his scars, delicate and beautiful, all circled around his mind like a carousel. Each memory evoked a warmth in his heart that trickled to his toes like water through a sieve, filling him up with the heat of it. It was hardly a moment before he was full to bursting at the thought of him. As the eager excitement of their reunion peaked, he was filled with an anxious nausea that made him wish it could be sooner.

Prompto could remember their first touch as if it was burned into his skin like a scar: risen, red, and fresh. The way they’d touched, it was electric albeit terrifying. He could remember the rage that had coursed through Gladio’s sure grip on his wrist as he  feared for his life. He’d thought it was the end of his short years in the forest until he allowed his mind to empty and Gladio to pour in. There was more than anger; there was fear, there was despair. Loneliness trickled in from that savage grasp, one that ached in his heart and made his eyes hot. A grief that made Prompto wish they’d never touched until he saw that same melancholy in that amber visage.

He’d known in every fiber of his being that those eyes weren’t seeing clearly. They didn’t know his ways or his heart. With time, maybe they could, but as Gladio’s fear and anger rocked the elf, Prompto felt himself slip from reality, too. That is, until he came back to his senses to find himself with a palm spread on Gladio’s chest, whispering curses and running for his life.

After that day he had spent the afternoon curled in his nook, deep inside of Mother, praying for forgiveness to whatever entity would grant it. It was terrible to be so lost in a mistake without the calm words of another to soothe him, but to speak of the incident would surely grant him crueler words in their place. 

He’d surely be made an example of. Just the thought of his clan’s faces, adrift with woe and disappointment at his indiscretion, make his stomach turn and brain buzz with unpleasant thoughts. Prompto had nearly forgotten his hold on Mother’s bare branches and from his fingertips sprouted a feeling of reassurance, of happiness.

_ Eala as tye nalasse _ . The deep rumble of Gladio’s voice, the memory of his arms stretched across Mother’s ancient trunk, pacified the anxiety brewing in him like the thunderstorm approaching from the south. He’d broken the sacred laws practiced by his people for years; he’d fallen in love and acted upon that love, something forbidden to  _ elessní _ , and yet nothing had happened.

Prompto had always been told that his bond to Mother would shatter like glass if he ever pursued another, if he ever strayed from the clan and opened his heart and mind to someone else. That she would shun him. With just a touch from another, she could wither, leaves could fall, and the clan could perish without her protection and magic.

Mother hadn’t, though, not even with that first, terrifying touch and the ones to follow. Even though Prompto had returned that fateful afternoon to find his tree standing tall and strong, he was still afraid to touch the human that seemed to change everything he’d ever known with just one action. He doubted he even could. Prompto didn’t even know how to touch; sure, he’d seen others in his clan embrace, kiss, love each other and their children, but it all was an utter mystery to him. 

After that first, fearful touch came many more. These were softer, kinder, apprehensive, yet something Prompto came to crave. Whether it was a gentle, guiding hand, directing him to their location or simply the touch of his rough fingers as Gladio handed him a hunk of cheese, there were never enough of them. It was when Gladio had lifted him to Carbuncle’s back that Prompto knew he could never keep his oath to Mother. The grip of his calloused hands on the supple, plush skin of his hips had made his heart race and the tender, amber gaze he’d found when he looked back down at his companion had melted it completely.

Mother was pleased with it, despite his reservations. Prompto had come back to her later that evening to find her waiting for his palms to spread across her smooth bark and enjoy the bond they had always shared. When he planted his hands firmly against her in the dead of night and shared the tremendous feelings of adoration that had bloomed in his chest like a field of flowers, she had echoed back pure, unadulterated joy.

Nevertheless, his brain had swarmed with possibility and confusion, filling his skull like a beehive until the thoughts were so loud he couldn’t stand it anymore. Try as she might to calm him, Mother’s reach barely touched upon the anxiety that had bubbled over the surface like an overfilled pot. It was that evening he found himself surrounded with tattooed arms and warm spring water. That was the night he’d fully stepped away from her for just a moment, using his magic for another, if only to express the tender affection that had creeped into his heart like the tendrils of a vine.

Prompto could smell the rain now as its dewy musk filled his nose and kissed his skin with its brisk touch. Nervous excitement cascaded through him, driving him to move from his perch, do something, anything to quell the anxiousness until the time finally arrived. He climbed effortlessly from branch to branch in his dance to the clearing through Mother’s canopy; the movements were fluid and graceful after over a hundred years of practice.

The dewy grass tickled between his toes as he landed on the ground. Chilly drops clung to his toes, making them squirm as long blades danced between them. The green grass of the clearing was already tall and strong, and it made him wonder just how long he had been asleep. The others were already wide awake and busy with their preparations for the new season.

Prompto watched from a distance, enrapt with watching his people. His people. It felt so odd to think that when he felt more alien to them than ever before. They way they touched was surreal; Noctis’s gentle caress to Luna’s back as she carried bundles of their freshly laundered clothes, Talcott’s failing attempts to get Aranea to play with him by grasping her leg with unabashed joy. Their skin, unclaimed and unmarred, every shade of cream imaginable, with perfect freckles and moles dappling their surfaces, made his heart contort in his chest and ache.

His hands found his way to the green ink embedded in his skin. He’d been tattooed when he was eighteen, as was custom for  _ elessní _ once they’d taken the oath. He could remember the look on his mother’s face as she watched the bone needle punish his skin. There was a time when he thought it was a look of sympathy for the pain he endured in the trial, but these days he realized there was grief in the crinkles at the corner of her eyes and sorrow in the twist of her frown.

How he missed her and the way her arms would fold around him deep in the night when Mother’s voice called to him in his sleep, waking him at all hours. When the knots had formed in the string of fate that bound them together. He was young and didn’t understand the magic that pulsed through his body with every beat of his heart, but now her voice was merely the lullaby that soothed him to sleep at night and woke him in the morning.

“Prompto,” a voice called from behind. He turned at the call to find Ignis approaching with a basket of fish held against his hip. The tall, slender man crossed his free arm at the chest in greeting- it was the custom to greet  _ elessní  _ that way, as the common kiss and embrace was forbidden. “Where have you been?”

“I was sleeping,” Prompto said. “How… how long has everyone been awake?”

“For at least seven suns,” Ignis said, quirking an eyebrow up at him.

Prompto fiddled with a fraying strand on the sleeve of his tunic. When he looked up, Ignis’s raised brows and tightly curled frown were expectant. “Prompto,” Ignis said, settling the basket on his hip as he spoke. His voice dropped low as he stepped as close as he could without touching Prompto. He wished he would; he wanted to know what another elf felt like. “Regis has been asking me why we have seen so little of you as of late. He thinks the forest is sick, that there’s trouble. There isn’t, is there?”

Shaking his head quickly, Prompto grasped his wrist with his fingers and found relief in the pressure there. Ignis wasn’t accusing him of anything, as he didn’t know just how far Prompto had wandered from his path. The forest was safe and well-maintained; Prompto made sure to attend to his duties each day before falling into the arms of the man he so dearly and secretly loved.

“You can tell Regis that the forest is healthy and well, nothing’s wrong,” Prompto answered shortly. “I- I need to prepare now; the new sapling sprouts need their blessings.”

With a nod, Prompto rushed back in the small crevice of Mother’s trunk, travelling deeper inside until he was in his nook once more. He lied flat against her naked, smooth flesh, pressing the heels of his palms and his flushed cheek to her. His heart was beating inside his chest at a raucous pace. He could feel the skin of his chest rise and fall against Mother as his breath quickened. With a shallow attempt at a breath, he pushed this awful, anxious feeling out to her, hope choking him in his throat as he awaited a response. The faint echo of quiet serenity fluttered in his brain like the wings of a bird.

Allowing himself a moment more of Mother’s touch on his consciousness, Prompto’s tight muscles relaxed as his mind did the same. The mistakes of his ancestors were merely coincidental. Even though he’d loved another, he could still feel her now, still feel her touch and the magic that pulsed through his body. The comfort he found in her reach was unlike any other, and for a moment, he could remember the way his own mother used to hold him close.

Grabbing his empty satchel, he left the tree and slipped around the clearing, avoiding the gaze of Ignis, who was cleaning the fish he’d caught.  _ We have seen so little of you as of late.  _ Prompto grimaced at the memory of Ignis’s words. Even now he was avoiding his people, but how could he not when the promise of love, so rich and filling, waited for him in the forest? The excuse of duty was merely a pretense at this point; the saplings’ blessings could wait until tomorrow.

A crack of thunder overhead nearly deafened him and sent his heart racing. There wasn’t much time left until the sky opened, releasing the heavens’ gift upon the earth. Prompto remembered last year’s first rain fondly. The songs he’d sung with the forest were full of joy and excitement as the rest of the trees woke with the sound, joining in their reverie. The first spring rain was a sacred one among the clan, one for celebration and happiness. He could think of no better company to celebrate it with than Gladio.

It was almost as if he couldn’t control his feet. They were fleeting through the forest at a quick pace beneath him, carrying him effortlessly over the infantile grass that peeked out from the soil. The dark clouds were gathering overhead now, dimming the forest. As he flitted through the forest, he brushed his fingertips against his favorite trees and smiled at the quake of their branches. Some were still sleeping, but woke at his touch, groaning as they shook their branches lazily. The smell of rain mingled with that of the wildflowers growing at the base of their trunks in a hazy, sweet aroma.

The hot spring they would meet at was far beyond the boundary of the clan’s territory. It was a safe place, one that Prompto had guarded and treasured for decades. When he found Gladio that past summer, waist-deep in it, sleeping in the warm water, it shook him to his core. The fact that he would defy Prompto’s sacred space was alarming, angering, almost. He had half a mind to run him out until he witnessed the disgusting welts and burns that his curse had inflicted upon the man. No wonder he had sought this healing, tranquil space.

Prompto carefully perched atop a boulder near the small waterfall that trickled into the spring. He rolled his sleeves before reaching for the water, letting it run over his hands. As he sat there with the comfort of the water soothing the anxiety that rippled through him in waves with each boom of thunder, he meditated. With a quiet mind, he could allow Mother’s magic to seep from his pores like sweat, filtering into the air around him and eventually spreading to the forest itself.

With the magic reverberating through the air in a soothing, happy energy, the forest came alive around him. The leaves of his trees rustled overhead as the shrubbery did below, filling the forest with white noise that was littered with the erratic sound of squirrels and chipmunks hopping from branch to branch. The breeze whispered gently through the trunks of the trees, and he could feel the joy of each and every one as the wind kissed their bark. When Prompto was in the forest, surrounded by the verdant life he cared for so deeply, his heart was at ease.

Just as he thought it couldn’t get better, a drop, chilled and fat, fell upon the bridge of his nose, nearly stopping his heart. Prompto held his breath as he patiently waited for another raindrop to touch his skin; he was tempted to strip and lay bare on the forest floor, anxiously awaiting the first drop’s companion. The forest quieted as he tensed- were the trees waiting, too? Surely the forest felt his excitement at the promise of rain.

Another fat drop fell upon his blonde locks, then another, and another. It didn’t take long for the gentle spring rain to turn into a downpour. The symphony that Prompto had imagined was alive and well among the branches of his trees already. The melody of falling rain, the percussion of thunder, even the rain cascading across the surface of the spring, were present.

Now, all he needed was Gladiolus. His heart hammered in his chest nearly as rapidly as the rain fell from the sky. Prompto found himself pacing around the border of the hot spring, picking up little pebbles and tossing them in the water. The ripples were lost in the rampant rainfall and it wasn’t long before Prompto was drenched and his blonde hair clung to the chilled skin of his face. He sought reprieve from the heavens’ blessing under a nearby oak tree, the very same that Gladio had tried to cut down when they first encountered one another. An appropriate place for a reunion, he thought to himself.

“Prompto!”

If his heart hadn’t stopped before, it did then. It leapt straight from his chest into his throat upon hearing that sweet, gravelly baritone voice call his name. The sound of Gladio saying it was infinitely better than any symphony the rain created for them. Prompto’s eyes shot to the source of it, sending his heart into a flurry all over again.

It was Gladio. Unlike Prompto, his appearance had changed over the course of the winter. The dark brown locks of hair that framed his face were pulled back from his face in a ponytail and the beard that barely tickled Prompto’s jaw when they kissed was now full, covering every inch of his lover’s chin. Gladio’s lips stretched into a wide smile and his amber eyes twinkled with delight as he approached Prompto. The wet tunic that stretched over his chest wrinkled as he extended his arms out, inviting Prompto into his waiting embrace.

“Gladiolus!” Prompto squealed, darting out from under the cover of the oak tree and leaping into his lover’s arms. The blacksmith chuckled as he wrapped his arms around the elf and carried him back under the canopy of the trees. Prompto relished the way his strong arms ensconced his slender body as they clung to him like he was his only tether to the world.

“ _ Missed you _ ,” Prompto said, stroking the wet locks of Gladio’s hair. He didn’t dare pull away from their tender embrace, as much as he wanted to kiss him and feel the familiar warmth of Gladio’s lips. His firm hold around his middle was more than enough for now.

“Don’t know what you’re saying,” Gladio chuckled, “but that’s alright. I think I can figure it out.”

Prompto hummed happily as he anchored his ankles together against the small of Gladio’s back. The larger man pinned him against the smooth bark of the oak, running his hands up and down Prompto’s sides as he buried his nose in the soft, damp flesh of his neck. Prompto’s chest was nearly bursting with joy at Gladio’s touch. He dearly hoped that the other felt the same. How he couldn’t reach out and  _ feel  _ Gladio like he could a tree or Mother was endlessly frustrating. Lips, warm as coals, touched the curve of his jaw gently.

“Word for this,” Prompto asked softly, barely audible amongst the thunderous rain that encapsulated them.

Gladio hummed, the sound rumbling through his chest as he pulled away to look at Prompto’s face. Rough fingers touched the hair that had plastered itself to his forehead, pulling it to the side so he could press a kiss to the elf’s cool flesh. “Perfection.”

“Perfection,” Prompto echoed. “Pretty word.”

“It is,” Gladio whispered, cupping Prompto’s cheek. His face grew close enough for their noses to brush against one another and for Prompto to smell the earthy tea that lingered on Gladio’s breath. He wanted to taste Gladio’s tongue on his, wanted to feel the man’s hot skin pressed against him, wanted to love him wholly with all of himself. Prompto pressed an eager kiss to Gladio’s lips as he dug his heels into the other man’s back, spurring him to press himself even more firmly to his body. Gladio responded enthusiastically with a heavy breath as his fingers folded around the loose fabric of Prompto’s tunic.

Prompto’s lips danced against Gladio’s as he spoke, “Want you.”

The brunette smiled as they kissed. “Want you, Prom,” he said, his voice thick and heady. “Eala as tye nalasse.”

“Gladio,” Prompto gasped. He couldn’t help the tears that fell from his eyes, from both relief and happiness. Gladio kissed them away swiftly before returning to Prompto’s mouth. His tongue pressed against Prompto’s lips and he opened his mouth, tasting green tea as Gladio licked inside of it hungrily. 

He was quick to pull away from Prompto and tug at the hem of his tunic in a silent invitation for the elf to remove it. He did so without trepidation and gasped at the chilly spring air that cooled his skin. Gladio tugged his own shirt over his head and dropped his trousers around his ankles, revealing skin that Prompto had longed for in his dream-filled sleep. 

The groan that Gladio made as Prompto’s chilled fingers danced over his pectorals and nipples was music to his ears. Capturing him in a firm kiss, Gladio bucked his hips against Prompto’s firmly. Tongues and lips danced lazily; there was no need to rush, Prompto wanted to savor this time together for as long as he could before he had to retreat into the forest and maintain his charade. For now, Prompto allowed his hands to meander across the supple planes of Gladio’s body, enjoying the warmth of him.

With every touch, he could feel Gladio’s emotions teasing at the tips of his fingers. He pressed his palms against his sides and groaned as the pleasure of their contact, his adoration, the careful love they’d cultivated, doubled. The wanting whisper in the back of his brain was now a scream and his body quivered in response. Gladio held him more firmly against his muscled body, kissing and suckling at his neck. Prompto could feel the skin grow hot and risen under the ministrations of his mouth and moaned.

Gladio’s hand slipped between them to tug at the hardness that had grown between Prompto’s legs. His thick fingers stroked the firm flesh slowly, increasing the intensity with each flick of the wrist. The touch made Prompto whimper and squirm against Gladio, for the sensation itself was still new and alien. The pleasure that flowed from Gladio’s fist, combined with the want and arousal that ebbed through him from the touch, was almost too much, until he succumbed and allowed Gladio to have his way with him. In the meantime, he would let his mind wander through the endless pleasure that waved before him like fields of grass.

A finger touched gently to his entrance, causing Prompto to yelp and buck into the touch.

“This good? Yes?” Gladio asked, beating a hasty retreat from the sensitive ring of muscles and resting his palm against the curve of Prompto’s ass.

Prompto looked into his amber eyes, which were nearly hidden behind drooping lids and framed with golden, blushed flesh. “Yes, Gladiolus.” Prompto gasped. “Touch, please.”

Gladio’s probing finger returned with the gentlest of touches. Prompto kissed Gladio between fervent breaths, his kisses sloppy and rushed. Gladio sunk into him and Prompto counted the knuckles as they slipped past his entrance, relishing the feeling of his lover being inside him with even just a finger after a whole season without him by his side. Gladio touched him lovingly, carefully, as he pressed kisses to Prompto’s temple and cheek.

Prompto opened his eyes to witness the clash of creamy, green-striped skin with tanned, golden beauty as the rain fell around them, deafening him to the rest of the forest. For now, there was only Gladio and the sweet reverence of their reunion. Prompto’s heart swelled so much in that moment, he thought it should probably hurt with how much it had grown, but their love was so painless and easy. It only made it easier to slip into the depths of their bond.

Two fingers stroked and stretched at Prompto’s heat. Gladio looked at him, his topaz irises nearly gone behind dark black pools, his gaze loving and doting. He lifted Prompto carefully, moving him from the trunk of the tree he was pressed against to the soft, pillowy grass below it. From here, the rain flecked against their skin, each cold drop echoing against the heat of their skin as they loved one another.

The hollowness that Prompto felt at the exit of Gladio’s fingers was short-lived, for Gladio was eager to fill Prompto with himself once again. He pressed his tip against the fluttering muscles, pushing in slowly and surely as Prompto caressed Gladio’s neck with his hands. 

He wanted  _ so _ badly to  _ feel _ him, to show him everything that he’d sequestered deep in his heart after months of sleep. Once he was seated deep, so deep the tender flesh of their hips pressed and Prompto was sure he was going to see stars, Gladio pressed Prompto’s hand into the side of his neck.

“I want to feel you,” Gladio murmured, pressing a kiss to Prompto’s wrist. “Feel me, and I’ll feel you.”

“ _ Ni tátye mime-  _ Gladiolus, gods _ \- hon, Mime sanda… sanda óre _ ,” Prompto gasped, pressing his fingers into the nape of Gladio’s dark locks as he closed his eyes and focused. It took far more energy for him to share himself, share his mind with Gladio, than it did with Mother or his trees. Thankfully, Gladio didn’t fight him, he just moved, rocking into Prompto slowly as the elf sang the song of bonds under his breath. 

The trees around him shook and rustled, accompanying him with their melody as he sang. His voice quavered with every thrust and Gladio’s breath fell short and shallow from effort and awe, much like it always did when Prompto exposed himself like this to him.

Gladio’s arms folded around him, nearly lifting him from the grassy bed below. Prompto hooked his ankles around Gladio’s middle, lifting himself up so the larger man could thrust deeply into him with ease. Gladio threw his head back, groaning as Prompto clung to him with his legs and laid his shoulders back against the grass so he could watch his lover’s eyes roll in ecstasy. Gladiolus was by far the most beautiful thing Prompto had ever seen, surpassing even the beauty of morning dewdrops on grass, or the cherry blossoms of late spring. The flush in his cheeks and parted lips only enhanced Prompto’s lust for him.

Prompto cried out as Gladio struck within his heat at just the right angle, sending a ripple of pleasure cascading through his loins. Gladio smiled at him, breathing heavily, as he repeated the motion. Prompto cried out and clawed at Gladio’s chest as his lover lavished his prostate with endless attentions, reducing him to a quivering, panting mess.

“Gladiolus!” Prompto moaned, his orgasm spilling from him, covering both of their middles. Gladio only pumped faster, milking the ecstasy from him with every movement of his hips. Gladio was close, too; the way his thighs shook with effort and the groans that ended every breath were his telltale sign of ecstasy coiling within him. Gladio called out his name as Prompto felt his lover spend himself inside his heat. The larger man shuddered and collapsed on top of him, his hot breath tickling Prompto’s neck as Gladio nuzzled him affectionately.

“So good… you’re so good, Prompto.” Gladio murmured into his soft skin. “Love you.”

“Love…” Prompto repeated, his mind still hazy in the aftermath. “Word for what?”

Gladio’s chuckle made Prompto tingle in the best of ways. He propped himself up on his elbows, eyeing his lover as he contemplated the word. “Love is… hmmm.”

Prompto frowned. “Like… this?” Prompto asked, his fingers tracing over Gladio’s softening erection.

“No! Well, yes, sort of.” Gladio answered quickly, his cheeks reddening at Prompto’s words. “Here,” Gladio said as he took Prompto’s hand in his and pressing it to his chest. Prompto could feel the thundering beat of Gladio’s heart beneath his skin. He looked into Gladio’s amber eyes as he rested both his hands against the skin, reveling in the wondrously strong quality of his lover’s heartbeat.

“It’s yours,” Gladio whispered, his eyes softening as they gazed upon Prompto’s face. “All yours.”

“Love,” Prompto said, leaning forward to press a kiss against Gladio’s lips. “Love… you.”

“I love you, too,” Gladio said, kissing him fondly before returning to the crook of his shoulder to nuzzle his face there.

Prompto sighed happily, his head flopping back in the grass and rolling to the side. Eyes closed, he reveled in the gentleness, the adoration that seeped from Gladio’s skin and saturated his brain. The feel of Gladio’s steady heartbeat against his skin was lulling him to sleep when he heard the faint crack of a branch.

Eyes opening lazily, Prompto rubbed them with the back of his hand. Gladio’s soft snores echoed through the clearing as he dozed on Prompto’s chest. He looked in the direction of the sound and nearly shrieked.

There, hiding behind a tree, was Ignis, shock curling every feature of his face.


	7. Larma: an Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interlude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I am still working on this story. The next chapter is currently being written as we speak but I got this idea in my head and it just wouldn't leave me alone. Please enjoy this fluffy, smutty interlude.

A happy hum rippled through Prompto's throat as Gladio's lips closed on it. Gentle and sure, he lapped at the dappled, sweet skin with his tongue, savoring the floral essence the elf's gorgeous skin was always graced with. Compared to his own salty musk, Prompto was light and sugary-sweet as if sweat and dirt had never marred such perfect skin. Gladio stroked the soft column of the elf’s neck with his thumb, sending shivers down his lover’s spine.

“Gladiolus,” Prompto gasped.

Gladio had hardly touched Prompto in this way, but when he did, his lover’s reactions were like lightning, brief flashes of electricity that sparked his soul on fire. The blonde never did sit still, and when Gladio stroked and touched and  _ loved _ him, it almost always ensured the wiggle of hips, a soft sigh, or clawing fingernails. It only egged Gladio on more.

He kissed soft trails from Prompto’s neck to his chest. The elf’s tattoos intertwined over his heart, forming the shape of a flower that mimicked the purple blossoms of his dear Mother. Gladio took his time kissing each petal before moving again, this time to the pert nipple just below green ink.

Prompto cried Gladio’s name as he squirmed into the blankets draped over Gladio’s mattress. Slender, freckled fingers fanned into his dark brown locks, pulling his mouth hard against the supple, sensitive flesh. Gladio smiled as he took the nipple between his teeth and ran his tongue over its peak. The whimper that action elicited, the grind of hips against Gladio’s chest, was intoxicating.

It dawned on Gladio that perhaps Prompto had never been touched this way. The elf always seemed hungry for contact, whether it be the gentle stroke of rough fingers on his arm, a hand at the small of his back, Gladio buried between his thighs and filling every inch of him. The elf had never even been  _ kissed _ before meeting Gladio; what other pleasures could he have been missing out on?

Gladio wanted to give him every ounce. He wanted to fill him with pleasure until he was overflowing with it; the streams of ecstasy that would cascade over the boundaries of his mind would surely fill Gladio, too. With Prompto’s pleasure, Gladio always felt sated, fulfilled, and happy. It was time to find out just how to bring that to the both of them beyond the holy union of their hips.

The larger man moved between Prompto’s legs, kissing a path from his nipple down to the shallow valley of his abdominals. The fingers in his hair tightened in a gentle grip as the body below him quivered with anticipation. Of what, Gladio wasn’t sure if Prompto knew, but surely the elf’s nervous energy was bounding through him like a herd of deer at this point. Gladio could feel it emanate from him; after so many bonds of the mind shared, so many songs sung, it was almost as if Prompto was always waiting at the edge of his mind for him these days.

The elf was already hard; his erection flagged against the smooth, tan skin of Gladio’s torso as he crawled between his legs. Gladio was careful not to touch it as he kissed his belly button and travelled south, ghosting his mouth along the edges of the thatch of blonde curls that grew below it. With a puff of a hot breath flowing from Gladio’s nose teasing at its velvet skin, Prompto’s erection twitched and jumped.

“Gladiolus,” Prompto moaned as his lover set his broad hands on both of his hips.

“Yes?” Gladio asked, tracing a finger down the underside of Prompto’s shaft.

“Mm, what…” Prompto began, finding himself at a loss for words as Gladio released another warm exhale onto his erection.

“This good? Yes?” Gladio asked, taking his hardness in a gentle grip and stroking his fist along its length.

“ _ Yes,  _ mihon, yes.”

“More?” Gladio asked, smiling softly at his lover as he kneaded his fingertips into Prompto’s thighs.

“Please, more,” Prompto begged.

Gladio was more than happy to oblige. He ran his thumb over the slit in the tip, watching carefully as Prompto’s back arced away from the mattress and into the air, forming a beautiful bridge with his body. Holding his hips gently, yet firmly, Gladio touched his lips to Prompto’s sac, pressing gentle kisses into the tender skin.

Almost immediately, Prompto’s back was in the air again, the arc of his spine lifting him up and pushing his balls against Gladio’s waiting mouth. The brunette parted his lips and passed his tongue through to massage at the sensitive flesh with the hot, wet muscle. Prompto shuddered through his entire body at the touch.

Gladio only took a moment more to lavish Prompto’s sac with licks and kisses; already, he could feel the elf trembling below him, the heat in his skin, the frantic grasping of his brown hair in little fists. He kissed the base of his cock, allowing his lips to sink into the molten hot flesh and his tongue to tease at its silken surface. 

The elf cried something in his native tongue that Gladio didn’t understand as his voice broke. The larger man had to set his forearms on his creamy thighs to hold the elf still as he placed messy kisses up the length of his erection. As Prompto quivered beneath him, Gladio stroked and rubbed the pale flesh of his hip with one hand and took his cock in the other.

Slowly, Gladio took the tip of his erection in his mouth. He didn’t want to rush; this was a moment he wanted to turn into a memory, one that his lover could savor and remember on those chilly nights spent apart. He licked his lips before sinking them over the plush head of his cock, enveloping the bulbous tip in his mouth. Gladio stroked the very tip with his tongue before circling its roundness with long, languid movements. As a shudder rocketed from the tuft of blonde hair atop Prompto’s head to his curling toes, Gladio hummed with satisfaction.

He massaged the swollen tip with his tongue for a minute more, enjoying the quiet whimpers and gasps he elicited from his lover, drinking them in like a sweet wine. His mind grew hazy with lust and want with each one and soon, he couldn’t help himself. Gladio sunk his lips down Prompto’s shaft, dragging his tongue along the underside and nudging the tip into the roof of his mouth.

Prompto’s musk was sweet and soft. It reminded Gladio of the smell of soft summer grasses, of the sun on a warm day. The floral aroma was so much stronger here, right on his skin; Gladio buried his nose in the dark, golden curls that laid upon Prompto’s flesh, inhaling the wonderful, unique essence of his lover. With Prompto buried deep in his throat, the elf’s hardness nearly speared the sensitive skin at the back. Gladio swallowed around his length to force the back of his tongue up against its sensitive underside.

To call it a tremble would be an understatement; as Gladio began working Prompto’s member with his mouth, dragging his lips up and down its length, the elf began to shake. It began in his thighs as the pleasure began to build, seeping through him like ink on a page, until nearly all of him was vibrating intensely. Prompto stroked Gladio’s hair, his face, his temple, whispering soft, sweet words to him in Elvish that were filled with want and anticipation.

As Prompto edged closer and closer to the ecstasy Gladio was striving to cultivate, his fingers found their way to the vulnerable flesh behind Gladio’s ears, bared to the world by the swoop of his ponytail. They rested there gently as Gladio bobbed his head on Prompto’s erection, pausing every few strokes to lave the head with his tongue before sinking back down on it quickly.

“Gladio,” Prompto sobbed in warning. The tremble of his thighs was so much more intense; it shook Gladio’s arms and hands, and it was all the brunette could do to lay atop his lover, pinning him down to continue with his focused attention. Gladio could hear his partner mumble his chant and hum the song with choking breaths before Gladio himself spiraled into Prompto’s pleasure.

“Ah!” Gladio gasped, pulling his lips off of Prompto’s erection and pumping it with his fist as the ecstasy of release filled his mind. Prompto spilled his spend over the top of Gladio’s fist and over his creamy, porcelain torso. His length pulsed in Gladio’s hand, twitching and flexing as he came, but Prompto’s fingers never left his lover’s neck.

“Prompto!” Gladio gasped as the pleasure of his lover’s orgasm became too much; the elf hummed to him softly as he rutted into the mattress, chasing his own unexpected pleasure. He collapsed on the blonde, his chest heaving, uncaring about the mess that lie between them. The raucous beat of Prompto’s heart was easily heard beneath the flower tattoo.

Prompto giggled and sighed happily as he dropped his head to the mattress. “Gladiolus,” he purred, stroking his lover’s hair. The cool nature of his skin felt like bliss against Gladio’s scalp. The two laid together, reveling in pleasure and companionship.


	8. Staying in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I know updates have been SUPER sporadic for this fic lately. I have had a particularly difficult semester in regards to mental health and it effected my longfics the most. I wanna say thank you to everyone who's stuck around this far. I now have an official chapter number; we'll have 12 chapters total of LLL.

Soft, white light woke Gladio with soft, warm kisses to his nose and cheeks. It spilled in through the open window just above the bed like warm honey from a spoon- a delicacy deserveding to be savored and enjoyed in all ways. Its gentle cadence was scattered across the blankets and furs that Gladio had spread across his mattress. The spring nights were chilly, and most certainly nipped at his nose and fingers no matter the size of the fire in his hearth.

It wasn’t often that Gladio could describe his mood as lazy or lackadaisical; however, this morning was definitely suited to that description. There was nothing that could draw Gladio from bed that morning: no gil, no work, no promises large enough to lure him away from such perfection.

There was, however, one very good reason to stay in.

Gladio could count the mornings he would wake, go out in search of him, and return to bed with Prompto, but never had it been like this. Never had he managed to convince his flighty partner to stay, embalmed in warmth and love under the cover of night to await this delicious morning light. They’d enjoyed each other’s company more than once the night before; something about their reunion had made Prompto voracious, and Gladio could never complain about taking the man in his arms and loving him wholly.

Soft blonde waves spilled across the tender, supple skin of his chest like a waterfall of golden flax. Gladio had never realized before how delightfully  _ soft _ Prompto’s hair was. Then again, all of Prompto was soft; his hair, his skin, his eyes, his smile. His heart, first and foremost. He couldn’t help himself, he had to reach out and touch him, dare to disturb such perfect slumber as he brushed an errant curl from his cheek.

Eyelashes, long and curling, barely fluttered over peachy, freckled skin as he slept. Though Prompto was always full of energy and nearly nervous, his slumber was deep and calm. The elf merely wriggled closer to Gladio, using his large body as a pillow; with a freckled arm tossed over his shoulder, a slight body nearly atop him, and a thigh resting over his, he wasn’t going anywhere, even if he wanted to.

Which he definitely didn’t.

Gladio rested his head comfortably against his free arm and entertained himself idly with the delicate green tendrils that traced across Prompto’s skin. He dragged his calloused fingertips across their surfaces, tracing every curl and memorizing their tangling paths across his lover’s body. Creeping up his neck and onto the graceful planes of Prompto’s face, Gladio wondered how far they went. Did they travel into his hair? Behind the shell of his ear?

They’d spent so much time together, and yet there was still so much left to know. The thought both elated and depressed him. A barrier as strong as language and culture was difficult to overcome. It felt nearly glacial in size and pace, but Gladio knew it was melting away. Whether it would take months or years was the true, terrifying question.

“Nn,” Prompto murmured. Almost immediately, his face scrunched and pressed into the valley of Gladio’s chest. He smiled and chuckled at Prompto’s sleepiness, and was nearly surprised by how someone so vibrant could resist the pull of the sun so strongly.

“Good morning,” Gladio said, his voice rumbling through him.

There was just a peek of clematis-colored eyes looking at him sourly before the elf lowered his face to Gladio once again.

“The sun’s up,” he murmured, running his hand through golden flax. “You up?”

“ _ Limbe kal _ ,” Prompto muttered, pulling a blanket over his head.

“In Lucian, Prompto,” Gladio chuckled, lifting the blanket to peek at him.

Yanking the blanket back down, he squeaked, “too much sun!” 

It took him a moment to realize that Prompto probably slept somewhere inside the great tree- Mother tree, he reminded himself- that he revered so deeply. It was probably dark and warm in there, unlike here, where the air’s chilly kiss and the sun’s unrelenting rays woke him. Gladio sighed before pulling the blanket further until it covered both their heads.

“Good now?” Gladio asked. “Or still grumpy?”

“Hm….” Prompto said, resting his chin on his hands so he could peer up at Gladio. Sleep shrouded his eyes in a haze. “Good,” he started, interrupting himself with a yawn.

Gladio thought his heart would quite possibly burst with affection. He gently took the slender elf in his arms to better hold him against his chest and was met with no resistance. Prompto merely melted into his surface, filling every gap, scar, and curve of his body happily. The blonde wriggled closer until the tips of their noses just barely brushed.

“Perfection, Gladiolus,” Prompto whispered. The dazed sleepiness was lifting from his eyes, reflecting their brilliance deep within their amethyst pools. Gladio settled his hands low on Prompto’s back as he relished the feel of their bodies moving against each other’s, of supple skin lying flush. If it were possible, Gladio would have willed the imprint of every one of Prompto’s freckles to lay in his skin like perfect little scars.

“What is perfection?” Gladio teased, for he liked to think he already knew the answer, and that it lied flat across his chest.

Prompto hummed nervously as a shy smile crossed his cheeks and a blush painted his face. “You know.”

“I do not,” Gladio scoffed.

The blonde wriggled against him anxiously. His hands shot up to cover his face; it was then that Gladio took a moment to admire  the creeping vines of his tattoo that grew here, too, even snaking up the third finger of his left hand to coil around it like a snake. Gladio set his fingertips into his ribs and wiggled them gently into his sides, eliciting a shrill shriek he was sure his neighbors could hear.

“Prompto!” Gladio laughed. The sound echoed through him like a drum.

“You! You!” the elf shrieked. Gladio dropped his hands to his sides as he looked at Prompto with an expectant smile.

“Perfection Gladiolus,” Prompto squeaked.

“ _ Perfect _ . Perfect is a word for a word. Perfection is a word all by itself.”

“What??”

“Nevermind,” Gladio said, rolling his eyes and smiling. Glacial, he reminded himself.

“Perfection,” Prompto murmured, pressing a kiss to Gladio’s waiting lips. “Perfection is Gladiolus.”

Gladio could feel a blush rise in his cheeks, as much as he tried to fight it. The sight of it made Prompto giggle impishly. “Gladiolus…” he said teasingly.

“I’m getting up,” Gladio grunted, tossing the blonde to the side and rising from the bed. “Work, for the both of us.”

“No!” Prompto exclaimed, holding Gladio’s wrists so tightly it almost hurt him, if Prompto  _ could _ hurt anything. “Stay. Please? Stay in bed with me.”

“Prompto…”

“No, no, no,” Prompto said anxiously, rising to his knees and scooting to the edge of the mattress so he could wrap his arms around Gladio’s trunk. “Stay. Please?” he begged before kissing the sensitive, tan skin of Gladio’s stomach. Prompto made quick work of Gladio’s pliant will, bending it easily with kisses and touches. “Stay here. Stay in bed with me,” he pleaded again, his voice dropping, low and husky.

Gladio smirked at him before lowering himself back into bed. Little did he know that Prompto would keep him there in a mess of tangled limbs and love all day long.

“No, Gladiolus.”

“Prompto, we need-”

“No!”

“I’m all out, I used all the lumber during the winter.”

“So braid cord. You are braid maker.”

“Prompto.”

“No more wood. Let forest be.”

With that, Prompto dropped his head back down to the mattress and pulled one of Gladio’s furs over his head. Though small and delicate like a flower, the elf’s nature was more stubborn and obstinate as stone. This wasn’t the first time that morning the blacksmith had tried to prod his moody lover out of bed. He was sure, though, that it would be the last.

“ _ I’m _ going,” Gladio said, rising from the mattress. His hips ached and his back screamed for relief; Prompto’s voraciousness, while incredibly enjoyable, continued to remind him that he was only human and that his lover was not. The elf’s vitality proved trying in more than one way, and for him to keep up was a sure test of endurance.

“Gladiolus! No. No trees. You need me,” Prompto gasped, popping out from under the dingy grey fur, violet eyes alight and shining.

Gladio shrugged a shirt over his head and slipped on his trousers. “Better hurry, then,” He said with a grin.

“ _ No _ ,” Prompto whined.

With a furrowed brow and slight frown, Gladio beheld his companion. Prompto was utterly disheveled. The perfect, plush form of his lips, still swollen from frenzied kisses and more sultry acts, curved downwards in a tight frown. Blonde locks were strewn across his face haphazardly, the gentle curls and waves long gone to the harsh touch of the mattress and fingers tangled in it time after time.

More disturbing than the messy hair and discontent, though, was his lack of color. The elf’s normal, freckled, tattooed pallor, which was always gently sunkissed, was faded at best. Beautiful, green vines, which normally stood stark against his skin like stones in the snow, had grown so faint Gladio was sure the only reason he could see them was because he’d memorized every single one.

Even the vibrant lavender hue of his irises looked bleak. Their usual, mesmerizing sparkle was replaced with a distant haze. The only thing truly apparent in his gaze was the desperation. Gladio could see it in the graceful arc of his eyebrow, the gentle flare of his nostrils, the moisture welling at the corners, promising to spill over.

It was terrifying, the stark, painful memory of Prompto’s eyes imbued in Gladio’s mind. A heart-shattering song, a limp body, panic. The certainty of death staring him straight in the face.

Prompto had gone without his forest for too long and Gladio could see it plain as day in his withering features.  _ How _ , exactly, Prompto got his magic, his energy, his very life from the forest, Gladio had no idea. He’d spent nights  sipping mead and wracking his brain, hoping that a mind saturated with the spirit would bring him some kind of wisdom, but all he got was a headache. When he’d asked Prompto, the barrier of language stood stronger and taller than any wall.

Gladio sighed as he looked at his companion. There had to be some kind of compromise, anything to get him into the woods and saturate his body with his magic. Work was out of the question, which was unfortunate- Gladio needed to make some money after the winter- but he could live off of the healthy savings he’d accrued over the past year. Prompto had helped him so much, after all. He felt as if he owed the little elf part of the small fortune.

Though Gladio was tempted to ask him what was wrong, over the past few days Prompto had successfully diverted any attempts at what they called conversation with frantic kisses that builded quickly. There was no way Gladio would willingly object to that, but now, he could see that Prompto needed more. He needed green trees, grass, and the flow of warm water over him. There was one place he could think of that his conniving lover couldn’t resist.

“Let’s go to the spring,” Gladio said with a soft smile as he brushed the edge of Prompto’s jaw with a weathered thumb. “We smell.”

“Smell?” Prompto asked, his face contorting in confusion adorably.

Gladio mimed smelling the inside of his shirt and fanning his nose. Prompto laughed at the gesture; the musical chime of his laugh, enchanted more by his accent, was bleary compared to others.

“But…” Prompto began, concern rippling across his features.

“Nope,” Gladio said firmly, picking Prompto’s tunic up off the floor and thrusting it into his chest. “Dress.”

Prompto sourly pulled the luscious, green fabric over his head and took far too long primping little wrinkles out of the sleeves. Gladio sighed before bending over and tossing Prompto over his shoulder.

“Gladiolus!” Prompto exclaimed, both surprised and offended.

“Sorry, little elf. No more waiting.”

“No!” Prompto cried, his voice breaking as he pounded weakly against the firm muscles of Gladio’s back. His fists bounced off the muscled planes of his torso like pebbles off a pond, scarcely disturbing the large man and eventually fading away to defeat. As Gladio left his home and marched into the forest with a dawdling, curious Carbuncle in tow, he could hear the sad sigh of his lover from over his shoulder.

The fists stopped raining down across the broad planes of his upper back. Prompto laid limp over his shoulder as Gladio finally entered the sanctity of the inner forest. They were nearing the hotspring now, and the faint smell of sulfur and moisture in the air was a wondrous welcome. Gladio stopped to set Prompto on his feet, who fell behind to walk beside Carbuncle with a fistful of her mane in his hand.

The elf was upset. Gladio couldn’t blame him; he’d literally dragged him out of bed against his will. He  _ knew _ Prompto needed to be here though, to be amongst the trees to recharge himself and his magic. Gladio looked over his shoulder to find sagging bags beneath Prompto’s eyes and wilted posture in his thin frame. They had arrived at just the right time.

Snow still littered the forest floor in thin, icy patches. Prompto tiptoed across the forest floor gracefully, as he always did, uncaring about sinking his bare feet into the greying, sludgy snow. Gladio watched with a chuckle as one particularly deep patch sent a shiver up the elf’s spine. Reaching for him, Prompto timidly took Gladio’s hand as they neared the hotspring. He couldn’t help but notice the apprehension hiding among clematis.

They both stripped before stepping into the steaming water of the hot spring. Morning sunshine filtered through the naked branches overhead; tiny buds of promise were beginning to sprout, showing the little green leaves each branch had endured to create. The hot water shrouded Gladio’s body, and he sighed in relief as he settled his back against a broad, hot stone. 

Prompto had chosen to sit beside a particularly tall boulder, sinking so deeply Gladio could only see his freckled nose and violet eyes. The fear he’d seen before was more apparent now; it was almost as if the elf was trying to hide himself in the hot spring. Of course, that was impossible with his flaxen hair shining in the sun and tattooed flesh standing out in front of his dark, stony background.

“Prompto,” Gladio said softly, beckoning him closer. The elf glided through the spring before settling in Gladio’s lap. Prompto gently trembled in Gladio’s embrace as he hugged him back. “Tell me.”

The elf shook his head aggressively. “Can’t.”

“Words?” Gladio offered. “I can help.”

Prompto paused, sitting back in Gladio’s lap to clasp his hands over his heart and shake his head. “No, Gladio,” he sighed. “So, so bad.”

“What?” Gladio asked, his brow furrowed in concern. “What is it?”

The elf merely tipped his head back, tightening his lips into a thin line as tears began to fall from his eyes. Shoulders bobbing with each sob, Gladio watched as Prompto broke down. He’d never seen him so upset. His heart ached as he watched with confusion and empathy ripping a hole wide open in him.

“Prompto, Prompto,” Gladio murmured, holding the elf tight against his chest. He murmured soft, comforting sounds under his breath as he stroked his hair. Waiting patiently for Prompto to calm himself, Gladio let out a disgruntled sigh before the elf finally managed to draw a breath.

“Can you show me?” he asked, taking Prompto’s hands and pressing them to nape of his neck.

“Not good, Gladio.”

“I don’t care. I want to know.”

Prompto sighed shakily before pressing his fingertips to Gladio’s neck. The melody of their song was broken and warbled with Prompto’s sobs, but the magic still worked, thankfully. Or at least Gladio thought so, until the elf’s emotions seeped into him like poison, confirming its presence.

Unrelenting fear rattled him to his core. Gladio could feel his heart begin to race, feel the cortisol shooting through his veins, making his chest hurt. Could feel the wash of anxiety begin to cloud his brain and fog his thoughts. He held onto Prompto tighter; his body brought him some sense of comfort.

Then there was the sickly sadness that seemed to echo in the shadows of that fear. It only got worse when Prompto would look at him. His verdant eyes were overflowing with tears as they sparkled with his magic. Gladio reached up to wipe them away, only for Prompto to replace his drying cheeks with more tears.

“Why?” Gladio choked as  fear and melancholy gripped his throat so tightly he felt he couldn’t breathe.

Prompto only shook his head weakly before his arms dropped from Gladio’s neck. He collapsed against his broad chest, and the blacksmith enfolded him in his arms as he settled against the rock. The revelation he’d just experienced made him sick to his stomach with worry. Whatever was making Prompto feel that way was obviously not good. Perhaps that was why he didn’t want to leave the house.

A twig snapped far off in the distance, and Gladio whipped his head around to look in the direction of the sound. Prompto’s fear was still bubbling in his belly, tainting his calm nature, making him wary of his surroundings. There was nothing there, though- at least nothing Gladio could see.

With a shaky breath, he ducked his head to Prompto’s temple to press a kiss there before listening to the sounds of the forest around them.

Gladio awoke the next morning to a lonely bed. It was achingly empty; the moment he had woken, he’d reached to the side nearest the window in search of his companion and found nothing but cold. It had been empty for some time. The sun was high above the horizon- perhaps Prompto had finally overcome his fear and left the house to hunt trees.

That was still odd, though. Prompto surely would have woken him to bring him along. He’d just been talking about how he needed to collect more wood for the forge. As much as he wanted to spend his days wandering the expanse of the forest with Prompto, it just wasn’t possible. His heart longed for the elf, for his sparkling smile and fluttering eyelashes over a steaming cup of tea.

Wasting no time, Gladio slipped from the warmth of his bed and dressed himself. It would take some time to catch up to Prompto; surely, the elf had already begun his work near the hotspring, climbed the ridge, and made his way into the valley below. They hadn’t been there for a long time, not since winter. There would surely be trees to cull and cut there.

He fumbled with his boots as he fought a sense of urgency that clawed at his insides. It made his fingers tremble and his brow furrow. The foreign feeling made him worry. It didn’t belong to him- he’d been feeling a sense of calm and anticipation of the day ahead. This was alien. Was it Prompto?

After nearly a week together, shared in close quarters, Gladio had noticed something new. He could feel Prompto lingering at the edges of his mind. If he rid himself of thought and preoccupation, the elf would slowly trickle in through the grooves of his brain and sense him. Was this because of the joinings? During the week they’d spent practically hiding away from the world in Gladio’s cabin, they’d joined in body and mind numerous times. With each join, it became easier and easier until Prompto only had to touch the nape of his neck to broadcast himself into Gladio’s brain.

Was this Prompto’s apprehension he felt lingering?

If it was, Gladio wanted to be there to reassure him. Help him, if need be. It certainly wasn’t  _ helping _ \- Gladio could feel the little elf’s fear, but it wasn’t like a homing beacon. It was like static, filling every spare inch with no direction or reason. He wanted to find Prompto not only to lend him aid, but to ease the itch the elf had given Gladio.

Carbuncle was chewing absently on grass in the field behind Gladio’s house when he found her. She greeted him with a heavy snort as she bobbed her head up and down. He whispered calming words to her as he stroked her neck, brushing her long mane from her eyes. Her eagerness spurred him on and without thought, he hopped on her back and rode her in a gallop straight to the forest.

By the time Gladio realized he wasn’t going to find Prompto, the sun was low in the sky. Carbuncle was tired; Gladio could tell by the way she lazily dragged her feet across the soggy forest floor. “Home, Carbuncle. I guess he’s gone back to the clan.”

The fear had faded, but Gladio couldn’t help the pang of heartache he felt when he got home. He’d become accustomed to the elf’s company, the melody of his voice as he told stories or sang songs in his native tongue, the gentle caress of his fingers at Gladio’s back as he cooked meat over the fire, little tufts of blonde hair peeking out from under his furs. Gladio wanted Prompto here with him, not deep in the forest. Immediately, he was rocked with guilt; he knew that Prompto needed Mother and that Mother needed him as well.

After eating a short meal, Gladio made his way into bed, enjoying the supple leather of his book between his hands as he admired the imagery. Again, he found his way to the images of wood elves, enjoying the illustrations of beautiful, arced features and pointed ears. These elves didn’t have tattoos, didn’t have magic, didn’t have clematis colored eyes that captured him with every look. Gladio closed his eyes and tried to imagine them as he drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much for reading. Your comments brighten my days and make me laugh and you guys are the best. Also, thanks to JJ and Deni for your hard work as betas, guys.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr if you wanna talk FFXV or yell at me or whatever!
> 
> tinyconfectionary.tumblr.com
> 
> This story is beta'd by the wonderful [jibberjabber13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jibberjabber13/pseuds/jibberjabber13) and [denilmo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/denilmo/pseuds/denilmo).


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